


Hero

by NotLikeYouThink



Series: The Craenari Chronicles [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, HoK-Centric, Main Questline, Matricide, Multi, Not the Entire Thing Just Some Things, OC-centric, Prequel, Same Universe as Chronicles of a Dragon, Summary subject to change, The Blades (Elder Scrolls), This is Mainly Adventure and Action, Title Subject to Change, but it's in there, i don't know what else to put, ish, not humour, some things change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-07-16 12:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16086125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotLikeYouThink/pseuds/NotLikeYouThink
Summary: Thrown into the Imperial City’s prisons for the crime of murder, sixteen-year-old Craenari thinks she’s never going to leave the prisons alive. It didn’t help that there was a Dunmer goading her from another cell. But when the Emperor himself appears outside her cell, led by his Blades that were taking him to a secret entrance, she gets thrown head-first into a series of events that lead to the Oblivion Crisis, and Martin Septim.Action and adventure unfold, and the newly dubbed Hero of Kvatch shall emerge from the fires of the crumbling Empire, a fate born in her blood and a connection to the Emperor’s bastard son, Craenari must face her past while looking towards the future.The dragon waits, and it shall wait no longer.





	1. Prisoner

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! Here's the prequel of 'Chronicles of a Dragon', starring Craenari, the Hero of Kvatch. I suggest you read Chronicles as well, as they're part of the same universe, and I may start putting hints to this story in that series.
> 
> I hope you enjoy Craenari's adventures!

Craenari didn’t understand how this happened. She had a plan, and it was flawless. She shouldn’t have been caught.

But that didn’t explain why she was currently being dragged through the Imperial City Prisons, chains around her wrists, towards one of the cells. It didn’t explain why she was shoved into a cell before the chains were taken off her wrists, and the door slammed shut as the two guards left.

It didn’t explain why she had been caught.

She shook her head, rubbing her temples with her fingers, and she sat down in one of the corners of the cell. The chair and table inside looked like they would break as soon as she touched them, and there was no way she was going to die from an infection she got from a splinter.

If only she had paid attention to when her mother had showed her how to use a healing spell.

As she brought her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees, she thought about the events that had led up to her imprisonment. Her mother had started to get drunk a lot, after the birth of Craenari’s brother two years earlier, saying that she couldn’t go through raising another child—look how her first one came out. And then she had started getting abusive.

She ran a nail over a scar on her calf, given to her when Salfre had thrown an empty bottle of cheap wine on the ground at her feet. As she bled, she had been forced to clean up the shards, which cut at her fingers, and left them in ribbons. If it hadn’t been for the healers at the Temple of the One, she would have died of blood loss.

The turning point for her was when Salfre had started hurting Liodeius. She had snapped, and planned to take him away from their mother with the help of her friend from the Waterfront. But it had escalated into a plan for murder, and her friend, Kal-Jereen, had accepted to help. She knew what the abuse was like, and knew it wasn’t a place for a child.

So, on the twenty-fifth of Last Seed, Kal-Jereen had babysat Liodeius, and Craenari killed Salfre in their home. But someone must have tipped off the guards, because just as she was taking her last breath, they had stormed in, and dragged her to the Prisons on the other side of the Imperial City.

She wasn’t usually violent, it was just when she snapped.

But it wasn’t her fault that Salfre worshipped Sanguine, the Daedric Prince of Debauchery. It was with two other worshippers that Salfre got pregnant and had her two children. And it was because of that that she worshipped Zenithar privately, and she was glad the guards hadn’t taken her necklace. She wrapped a hand around the pendant, and sent a silent prayer to the god, begging for His forgiveness.

She leant her head against the wall and closed her eyes. She would never know if He would forgive her, for He was a god, and she was only a child. A murderer.

Maybe He would see the situation and forgive her. She hoped so.

“Oh, look, an Imperial in the Imperial Prisons.”

She opened her eyes and looked at the other side of the cell. Through the bars and in the cell opposite was a Dunmer, hair greying and eyes blood red. She blinked at him, wondering what he was on about.

“I guess they don’t play favourites, huh? Tell me, what did you do to get yourself stuck in here, especially so young.”

She blinked again with bright blue eyes that Salfre had repeatedly stated she got from her father. “I murdered my mother.”

He looked at her with surprise, and then he sneered. “Well, no wonder your own kinsmen think you’re a piece of human trash. How sad. I bet the guards give you “special” treatment before the end. Oh, that’s right. You’re going to die in here, Imperial! You’re going to die! Imperial criminal scum like you give the Empire a bad name, you see. You’re an embarrassment. Best if you just… disappeared.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, breathing deeply to keep her blood from boiling. She had learned not to lash out at every unsavoury comment, mostly given to her by her mother’s friends whenever they came over for some… _worshipping_. She could keep calm around a leering Dunmer in adifferent cell than hers.

A door banged, and half a minute later a guard came through with a plate of food. He knocked on the bars to her cell, and she stood up and made her way over. Through a slit in the bars, he passed her the tray, and she sat back down in the corner, and started eating.

For the next two days, there was routine. Three times a day, the guards came through with a tray of food and a pitcher of water. Once a day, the bucket she relieved herself in was emptied while she slept on the dingy bedroll that came with the cell. And all through the day, the Dunmer Valen Dreth, who had given his name sometime during her second day in the cell, leered at her and tried to make her angry, tried to make her lash out. But she kept her cool, and stayed level-headed. She didn’t know how long she’d be able to, though, before she snapped like she did with her mother.

On her third day in the cell, just after the guards had returned to collect her food tray, Valen Dreth shouting his verbal abuse at her, a door banged on the opposite side of the prisons that it usually came from, causing Craenari to go to the cell door and peer through them.

“You hear that? I told you you were going to die! The guards are coming for you, and they’re going to kill you!”

_They couldn’t be_ , she thought. _Dreth has been here a lot longer, and they haven’t killed him. Is it even legal for me to be executed? I’m only sixteen, surely there’s a law against that or something._

“Baurus! Lock that door behind us!”

“Yessir.”

“My sons… they’re dead, aren’t they?”

A man came into view, not wearing the typical armour an Imperial City Guard did. No, it looked a lot fancier, and almost Akaviri in style. And he wasn’t an Imperial either, but a Redguard. Who were they? And why were they going through the prisons?

“We don’t know that, Sire,” the first voice, a female voice, said. “The messenger only said that they were attacked.”

Three more people came into view, two more dressed like the Redguard, an Imperial man and a Breton woman, with an old Imperial man in front of them, dressed in extremely fine robes with a massive jewel hanging from his neck.

“No, they’re dead,” the old man said. “I know it.”

“My job right now is to get you to safety,” the woman said.

The old man looked around. “I know this place… the prisons?”

The woman nodded. “Yes, your Majesty. Beneath the Legion Compound. We’re headed for a secret passage known only to the Blades. No one can follow us through here.”

Craenari’s eyes widened, and she stumbled backwards from the bars. She knew what the Blades were, everyone in Cyrodiil did. They were the personal protectors of the Emperor, and the woman had called the old man “Your Majesty”, so he must have been the Emperor, Uriel Septim VII.

But what was the Emperor and his guard doing in the Imperial City Prisons?

They stopped in front of her cell, and the Blades woman growled. “What’s this prisoner doing here? This cell is supposed to be off-limits.”

Craenari’s heart started beating erratically in her chest. What was going on? Why was the cell off-limits? And if it was, why was she placed in it?

The Redguard stammered. “Usual mixup with the Watch, I…”

She scoffed. “Nevermind. Get that gate opened.”

The Imperial Blade pulled a set of keys out of a small pack on his backside, and glared through the bars at Craenari.

“You! Prisoner! Stand aside. Over by the window.”

She did as he asked, backing up until her back hit the wall underneath the window, the mid-morning light beaming through the bars on the high window. He unlocked the door, and led the way into the cell. He unsheathed his sword, a curved Akaviri katana, and pointed it at her chest, forcing her into the corner opposite the niche in the wall of the cell.

“Stay out of the way, and you won’t get hurt.”

The Emperor walked passed the Blade pointing the katana at her chest, and spared her a glance. When his blue eyes met hers, he blinked at her.

“You… I’ve seen you…”

He took a step towards her, but the Blades woman put a hand in front of him.

“Don’t go near the prisoner, she could be dangerous. We don’t know what she’s in for.”

Craenari swallowed the bile rising in her throat.

The Emperor lowered the Blade’s arm. “It’s alright, Captain Renault. I just want to see her face.”

Grumbling, the woman, Captain Renault, nodded, and the Imperial pointing the katana at Craenari’s chest stepped aside to let him through, but kept his katana level with her chest.

“Just know, prisoner, that if you try anything, Glenroy will have that katana through your chest before you can move,” Captain Renault said.

Her heart somehow beating even more erratically, Craenari nodded.

The Emperor took another step towards her. “You are the one from my dreams… Then the stars were right, and this is the day. Gods give me strength.”

“What’s going on?” she asked, the shaky words leaving her mouth before she could even process them.

Grief filled his face. “Assassins attacked my sons, and I’m next. My Blades are leading me out of the city along a secret escape route. By chance, the entrance to that escape route leads through your cell.”

“Do not divulge our plans to the prisoner, your Majesty,” Captain Renault said. “We don’t know what side she’s on or what brought her here.”

“Perhaps the gods placed her here so we could meet,” the Emperor told the Captain. “As for what she has done, it does not matter.” He looked back at Craenari. “That is not what you will be remembered for. Tell me, what is your name?”

She blinked at him, surprised that he wanted to know. It took a second for her to answer. “Craenari, your Majesty.”

He smiled at her. “A beautiful name.”

A slight blush tinged her cheeks, before she remembered what else he had said. “You said this isn’t what I would be remembered for. What does that mean?”

“You will know, in due time. But for now, you will find your own path. Take care… there will be blood and death before the end.”

“Please, sire, we must keep moving,” Captain Renault said, and moved to the wall next to the niche. She pressed a stone, and the wall inside the niche opened up, revealing a dirt passage leading to the abandoned tunnels underneath the prisons, that Craenari had once read were Ayleid in origin. She started down the tunnel. “Better not close this one. There’s no way to open it from the other side.”

Glenroy sheathed his katana, sending Craenari another glare, and followed the Emperor down the tunnel.

The Redguard smiled at her kindly. “Looks like this is your lucky day. Just stay out of our way,” he said, before following the others down the tunnel.

Craenari sent a smirk at Valen Dreth from the other cell as he started spewing curses at how it wasn’t fair, and to take him with her. With a final glance, she entered the secret tunnel, starting on an adventure no one could have predicted.


	2. Entering the Subterranean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and reviewing.

The tunnel was thin and dug out of rock, sloping down into the earth. The tunnel ended with a broken brick wall, and the stone changed to bricks, looking like the Ayleid ruins Craenari had seen on the other side of Lake Rumare, the lake the Imperial City sat in.

The procession was slow, with Captain Renault at the front, followed by the Emperor with the two other Blades, Glenroy and the Redguard, following him. Craenari was at the back, hanging far enough back that the Imperial Blade, Glenroy, didn’t glare at her.

It was obvious he didn’t trust her.

They went down a small staircase into a small chamber with a staircase in the middle of the room leading down, pillars holding up the roof, and platforms that were inaccessible from where they were. As soon as they stepped foot in the chamber, someone jumped off one of the platforms, in silver armour above a red robe, and attacked the Captain with a mace. Another man jumped off, and they were joined by two others from the second platform.

“Protect the Emperor!” Captain Renault said, unsheathing her katana and dodging the attack the first assassin threw at her.

The two other Blades unsheathed their own katanas and launched into battle, and the Emperor took out a small dagger that had been hidden under the folds of the robes he wore, stepping backwards and away from the fighting. Craenari, whose only experience with a sword was the killing of her mother, stayed back in the tunnel leading into the chamber, eyes wide, hoping no one spotted her.

The attack ended shortly, but not without consequence. The assassins had fallen, but so had Captain Renault.

“How could they be waiting for us here?” Glenroy asked angrily, sheathing his katana with more force than was necessary.

“Don't know,” the Redguard Blade said, shaking his head and sheathing his own katana. “But it’s too late to go back now.” He turned to the Emperor. “Don’t worry, Sire, we will get you out of here.”

A cruel grin spread across Glenroy’s face. “They won’t be the first to underestimate the Blades.” He turned on his heel and faced towards the gate on the other side of the chamber, the way forward. “I’ll take point. Let’s move.”

He started down the steps with the Emperor following him. Craenari went to follow, but the Redguard Blade stopped her. “You stay here, prisoner. Don’t try to follow us.”

She blinked, and watched him follow the Emperor and Glenroy through the gate, and he turned back and locked it, stopping anyone from following them, including her.

Craenari let out a breath, and tried to swallow the lump that was forming in her throat, tears prickling in her eyes.

Shaking her head, she she rubbed the palms of her hands into her eyes, and she took a shaky step forward. Now was not the time to cry. She might’ve gotten a pardon from the Emperor, but that didn’t mean the guards in the prisons above her knew that. She’d have to find another way out of the Ayleid ruins she was in.

She knew that a lot of Ayleid ruins were haunted, so she made her way to where Captain Renault’s body lay half-way down the left staircase, and picked up the katana that laid on the ground next to it. It was heavy, heavier than she thought it would be, and she marvelled at the blade in the light that seemed to glow from the stones themselves, until she looked up and saw that there were holes in the ceiling. She then bent down and took the sheath off the dead Captain’s body, and fastened it to her hip, sheathing the blade.

Then, she made her way to the bottom of the staircase and looked up at one of the platforms that the assassins had come from, wondering if there was a way for her to reach it. She wasn’t much of a climber, and she had horrible upper-body strength—she was more of a runner—but she was willing to try.

She pulled herself onto the wall and lodged her fingers between two loose bricks, and pulled herself up to grab the edge of the platform. The tips of her fingers caught it, but they slipped and she was sent to the floor.

She swore and pushed herself to her feet, brushing off her hands on her sack pants. Her fingers were already throbbing.

Behind her, she heard something crumbling, and a squeak close behind her made her turn around.

Right behind her, launching itself at her face, was a rat, bloodthirsty as most wild rats were, and she would have been eaten right then and there, ending her journey, if her fight-or-flight response had been different. But she managed to let out a scream and duck it, and it face-planted into the wall behind where she had been.

Her heart pounding in her chest, she unsheathed the katana at her side and held it in front of her, not really ready for it to pounce again, but more than she had been before.

She heard a squeak behind her, and she screamed again, shutting her eyes and turning around. The sword in her hands hit something hard, and there was a squelching sound before the smell of copper hit her nose, and she vaguely remembered it from when she stood over her mother’s dead corpse.

If she could kill her mother without a second thought, why couldn’t she kill a rat?

She pried her eyes open and saw a rat writhing on the end of the katana, and it took everything in her not to throw up then. She shook the rat off the end of it, side-stepping the other rat’s attack, and cut its head off. She swung the sword as the first rat dove at her again, and it cut all the way up its side, sending it into the pillar next to her.

Swallowing the bile in her throat, she held the katana in front of her, both hands on the hilt, and waited for either of the rats to move.

They didn’t, and she sighed in relief.

She scowled at the blood dripping off the sword, but dropped the tip to the ground and looked around the chamber to see where they had come from, because they certainly hadn’t been in there before, otherwise they would’ve attacked the Blades and the assassins. Wild rats were always attacking people like that.

She spotted a hole in the wall, leading to a subterranean cave, dug out and sealed centuries earlier. She let go of the katana with one hand and made her way to it, peering through and into the darkness. She could see a beam of like coming from what looked like a well, but she had to squint to see further through it.

With the blood still dripping off the end of the katana, she climbed through the hole, for once glad for her small body.

She stood there for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness, and she went through the events of the past ten minutes.

Because that was how long it had been since Valen Dreth had teased her with death. In that short amount of time, she had met the Emperor, had been given a pardon, and killed two rats. Not what she thought was going to happen when she woke up that morning.

She spotted a chest to her right, in a nook next to the crumbled wall. Inside was a rusted iron axe and six gold pieces. Leaving the axe, she put the gold in the small pocket of her trousers, and made a mental note to pick up her items from the prisons when she got out of there—though, she hadn’t really had anything on her at the time of her arrest, so she should problem not and wait for them to find her gone. There was no need to let them think that she escaped.

She stepped deeper into the cave, hand outstretched so she didn’t bump into anything her eyes couldn’t see in the darkness. As she approached the light coming from the well, she saw a skeleton bathed in another beam of light, a small sack, a chest, and a bow and quiver full of arrows lying next to it.

She swallowed the bile rising in her throat, but approached the skeleton. She needed the sack to carry whatever else she found down there. She also now had no legal guardian, not parent that could help her, so she had to sell whatever she could to get money to provide for her and her brother, Liodeius, though Kal-Jereen had said that she would help wherever she could.

It was nice of the Argonian, and Craenari had teared up when she said that.

She knelt down next to the skeleton, sheathing the katana before pulling open the drawstring bag, digging through the contents. There was a handful of lockpicks, an unlit torch, more gold, and a rusted iron dagger that didn’t have a sheath. She pulled the gold that was in her pocket out and put it in the bag, and moved over to the chest, noticing that the skeleton was wearing rough leather boots and a cuirass.

Debating whether or not she should take the armour, she tried to open the chest, but it wouldn’t open she swore under her breath, realising it was locked, and clicked her left incisors together as she thought. She had just gotten a bunch of lockpicks from the sack (which was the best luck she could have at the moment) but she wasn’t that good of a lockpick. One of the men that lived in the Waterfront District had started teaching her, but she hadn’t picked up on it, as she had been busy plotting the murder of her mother.

Steadying her breath, she took one of the lockpicks out of the sack and pulled the chest towards her, angling it so she could see it better. Even so, she couldn’t see it properly in the low light, so she pulled the torch out of the sack and lit her hand up with fire, the spell quickly draining her magicka, and lit it. It burst into flames, and she stopped her spell.

She dug the end of it into the dirt next to her, and stuck the lockpick into the lock. She felt the pins in the lock, seeing how many there were that were down, glad that there was only one. She then put the other part of the lockpick, what Armand Christophe had called a tension wrench, before swallowing, steadying her breath again, and jerked the lockpick up.

It broke.

She swore, casting the broken lockpick aside and grabbing another one. Counting, she realised she only had four more after that one.

Luckily, though, she managed to unlock it. Inside was a pile of gold and a sapphire.

Dropping the chest and standing up, she pulled the drawstring bag closed and tied it to the belt the katana hung from. She pulled the armour off the skeleton, the bones falling into a pile at her feet, and she pulled the rough leather cuirass over her head before pulling on the boots. They were too big, but it would do.

Opting to leave the bow and quiver where they were, she picked up the torch in her left hand and walked deeper into the cave. She didn’t have to go far before she reached a locked door, with a dead goblin next to it. Blanching at the rotting, smelly corpse, she searched through the pockets for a key, finding it and also a couple scrolls, three more lockpicks, and a potion. Uncorking it and smelling it, she could tell it was a potion of sorcery. She recorked it and placed it in her pack before going back to the door and unlocking it. Not sure if she’ll be needing it again, she put it in her pack as well.

She let the door swing closed behind her, and she heard the squeak of a rat come from the darkness on the edge of the light her torch cast. She unsheathed the katana, ready for it to come. It came out of the darkness, straight at her head, and she dodged it. It slammed into the door behind her, and she spun around, swinging the katana and killing it.

She spun back around and brandished the katana in front of her, hesitantly taking a step forward. She moved the torch, trying to light up the corners of the room, but when nothing came out of the shadows, she sighed in relief.

She wandered around the small room, looking for a way forward. She found a slope leading down, levelling out and turning. A rat came around the corner, and then another, and Craenari raised her sword higher in preparation of fighting them.

But they turned back around as two more appeared, being followed by a shambling creature that only had one arm.

Craenari let out a scream as the zombie attacked the rats, and the rats attacked back.


	3. Goblins and Reunification

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Craenari stood frozen as she watched the zombie and four rats battling. Several bits of the zombie’s flesh had fallen off, revealing its ribcage and hip bone. Its hair had fallen off long ago, and it was missing an eye.

It killed the rats, and then it started shambling towards her, faster than she would have thought possible. That snapped her back to reality, and she backed up the slope, fear filling her and locking up her limbs. She couldn’t move her arms, and her legs only wanted to move backwards.

Letting out a whimper, the zombie caught up with her, and raked its one arm towards her. She ducked, and stabbed it in the chest, pushing it off the blade with her foot, which she was extremely glad was now covered with leather boots.

The zombie laid dead on the floor, and she threw up next to it. She grimaced, and wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand.

She sheathed the katana again and stumbled back down the tunnel, stepping over the dead rats and turning the corner. She turned another corner and went down a passage leading into another room, this one with pillars made of stone and wood. A chest laid in a pile of wood, just on the edge of the torchlight, and a rat sat next to it, like it was protecting it from would-be thieves.

She let out a shaky breath and stepped towards it, wanting to attack it before it attacked her.

She raised her katana above her head and shoved it onto the rat as it turned around to attack. Another rat attacked from the darkness, but Craenari had been ready for it. She cut it in half in midair, dodging the two pieces and the blood that came out of it, and opened the chest she now stood in front of. Inside were two potions and two lockpicks, the former she could sell and the latter she could use.

She went deeper into the cave system, which led to a lit up room with four wooden beams in the centre and bones and food between them, on top of broken wooden planks that had fallen who knows how many years ago.

Three rats that were in the centre of the room came at her. She dodged the first one’s attack, bringing her sword down on the second one. The third one launched itself at her, and she ducked. The rat collided with the first one, which had launched itself at the back of her head at the same time. While they were dazed, Craenari quickly killed them before moving further through the cave.

Rats came at her one after the other, and she got good at killing them as she pushed through the subterranean, wondering how big it was, and if she had made a bad decision to go through the wall and not go back to the prisons. Serving a deserved prison sentence was better than dying with no one knowing what happened to you.

And she thought that the most when she saw her first goblin.

She’d heard tales of goblins from Methredhel, a Bosmer that did odd jobs for the thieves guild, despite not being a proper member, though she was trying to. She had told the young Imperial that they were stupid, but easy to aggravate, and it was for that reason that the Bosmer had given her a couple training lessons for how to use a bow.

But she didn’t have a bow on her. She’d left it back in the first room.

Quietly, she unsheathed the katana and approached the goblin, staying low to the ground and was careful of where she stepped. If she made any noise, it would alert the goblin that she was there, and attack her. She didn’t want that.

She raised the katana as she got closer, and stabbed it through its spine. It let out an ungodly screech, and spasmed on the end of the blade as it died. She pulled the sword out, and it fell to the ground.

Blanching, she made her way through the tunnel leading further into the subterranean, only to came face-to-face with another goblin.

She let out a scream as it started running at her, and it stepped on a trip wire. Two massive maces unhinged from the ceiling and smashed into the back of the goblin. It let out a screech of pain as it sailed through the tunnel, and Craenari ducked underneath the flying body.

Looking at the body, she waited until she was sure it was dead before continuing on, ducking passed the two wooden maces.

The next room was small, with a fire against a wall with a dead rat in front of it and a pile of logs on top of a slope. There was a small tunnel to the side, and she ducked her head into it to see there was a table at the end with a chest on top of it. 

She walked over to it and opened it. Inside was a lockpick, and there was a small pile of gold on the table next to it with a rusted dagger. She pocketed the lockpick and gold and decided to take the dagger as well, in case she somehow lost the katana. She connected the sheath to the belt the katana and her sack hung from, just next to the sack.

She rested her hand on the worn leather handle, reminding her of the knife she had used to kill her mother. She had dropped it when the guards came through the door, and she didn’t know if it had been taken to the prisons or not.

She shook the thought out of her mind and went to the logs that were stacked on top of each other.

An arrow came zooming passed her head, and she froze as she watched it thud into the roof, the shaft of it bouncing. She looked down the slope to see two goblins with bows, nocking arrows onto the bowstrings. Panic making her heart beat erratically, she rolled behind the pile of logs, pressing her back against it as she heard a _thud_ on the other side.

Her eyes wandered to the thick rope that was tying the logs together, an idea forming in her head. She unsheathed the dagger she just got and pressed its rusted edge against the rope. She sawed at it until it snapped, and that side of the logs started rolling down, but was stopped by the rope tying the other side of the logs together. She crawled over to it and cut it.

The logs rolled down the slope and barrelled into the two goblins, crushing them. Craenari tried to slow down her heartbeat as she stared down at the pile of logs, and pushed her short brown hair out of her face. She sheathed the dagger and pushed herself to her feet before sliding down the slope.

Next to the bodies of the dead goblins were two chests, and she pocketed their contents before continuing through the next tunnel, which led to a huge cavern with a couple goblins inside.

She backtracked to the dead goblins, taking a bow that had fallen from one of their grasps and unhooked a quiver off one of the bodies, collecting all the arrows that had fallen out of it. She then went back to the entrance of the cavern and pulled an arrow out of the quiver she had pulled over her head. She nocked the arrow and pulled back on the bowstring, remembering what Methredhel had told her about using a bow.

“ _Release when you exhale. It gives you more stability._ ”

Breathing in, Craenari chose her target—the nearest goblin that seemed to be pacing. And breathing out, she let the arrow go.

It soared through the air, and struck the goblin in the chest, causing it to buckle backwards. It landed on the floor and didn’t move.

Sighing in relief, she nocked another arrow and stepped into the chamber proper, aiming the tip of the arrow at a goblin that was inside a hole in the ground, that looked like a place for them to breed rats. She let the arrow go, and it pierced itself into the goblins side. It let out a scream, and another arrow appeared in its chest, silencing it.

She shot the next arrow at a goblin across the chamber, one that didn’t know she was there, and it hit him in the chest. The next arrow went into the last goblin, killing it.

She went over to where the last goblin had been standing, picking up a staff with a goblin head on the end of it. It was heavy, but it would get her money, so she slung her bow over her shoulder and let the head drag behind her as she made her way up through the next tunnel.

At the end of it was a hole that lead into an Ayleid-like ruin, and when she stepped through it, falling to a platform below, she heard a voice talking.

“We should find a defensible spot and protect the Emperor until help arrives.”

She recognised the voice. It was the Imperial Blade, Glenroy, who had been rude to her the entire time they’d been together.

“Help? What makes you think help will get here before more of those bastards? We need to get the Emperor out of here,” the Redguard Blade said.

Glenroy unsheathed his katana. “Here they come again!”

An assassin jumped from a platform on the other side of the room, and Craenari ducked behind a pillar as she heard the clashing of sword. She may have killed her mother and a bunch of goblins, but that didn’t mean she was ready to fight humans that were trained to kill.

There were grunts and groans amidst the sounds of metal on metal, and she didn’t know how much time had passed before she heard the Redguard say, “I think that’s all of them. Let me take a look around.”

She poked her head around the side of the pillar as the Emperor spoke.

“Have you seen the prisoner?”

Glenroy looked over his shoulder at him. “Do you think she followed us? How could she?”

“Room’s clear,” the Redguard said.

“Sire, we have to go now,” Glenroy said.

The Emperor shook his head, his eyes glancing at where Craenari was hiding. “Not yet. Let me rest a moment longer.”

Craenari’s eyes widened slightly in apprehension. He knew she was there.

Grasping the handle of the goblin staff tighter, she stepped out from behind the pillar and dropped into the room, just behind the Redguard.

He screamed in surprise, and Glenroy unsheathed his katana. “Dammit, it’s that prisoner again! Kill her, she might be working with the assassins.”

Emperor Uriel Septim put a hand on Glenroy’s raised arm, confusing the Imperial, as Craenari shrunk back away from the sword.

“No,” he said. “She is not one of them. She can help us. She _must_ help us.”

She swallowed the saliva in her throat as Glenroy grumbled, but sheathed his katana. “As you wish, Sire.”

The Emperor motioned for her to move closer. “Come closer, I’d prefer not to have to shout.”

Hesitating, she took a couple steps towards him.

“They cannot understand why I trust you,” he said, smiling softly at her. “They’ve not seen what I’ve seen. How can I explain? Listen. You know the Nine? How They guide our fates with an invisible hand?”

She nodded, a hand reaching up to the amulet of Zenithar that hung around her neck. “The Nine guide and protect us.”

“I’ve served the Nine all my days, and I chart my course by the cycles of the heavens. The skies are marked with numberless sparks, each a fire, and every one a sign. I know these stars well, and I wonder… which sign marked your birth?”

“The Lord,” she said. “I was born in First Seed.”

He nodded once. “The signs I read show the end of my path, My death, a necessary end, will come when it will come.”

“What about me?” she asked.

“Your stars are not mine. Today the Lord shall prove a faithful patron as you confront your fate.”

“Can you see my fate?”

He shook his head sadly. “My dreams grant me no opinions of success. Their compass ventures not beyond the doors of death. But in your face, I behold the sun’s companion. The dawn of Akatosh’s bright glory may banish the coming darkness. With such hope, and with the promise of your aid, my heart must be satisfied.”

Craenari was silent for a second. “Aren’t you afraid to die?”

“No trophies of my triumphs precede me. But I have lived well, and my ghost shall rest easy. Men are but flesh and blood. They know their doom, but not the hour. In this I am blessed to see the hour of my death… To face my apportioned fate, then fall.”

“Where are we going?”

The smile reappeared on his face. “I go to my grave. A tongue shriller than all the music calls me. You shall follow me yet for a while, then we must part.”

He turned away from her, and followed Glenroy down a passage. The Redguard handed her a torch and introduced himself as Baurus as she thought over what the Emperor had told her.

He was going to die, and she had to be okay with that.


	4. Death of an Emperor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter of three for the night! I wrote over 7000 words today, and in that I finished chapter 4, wrote chapters 5 and 6, and started on chapter 7. So, wait for two more chapters!
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing.

The group of four that consisted of Baurus, Glenroy, Craenari, and Emperor Uriel Septim VII were attacked by assassins at almost every turn throughout the Imperial Subterranean. Craenari had killed a few of the assassins, with the katana that belonged to the dead Captain Renault, something the Imperial knew said Blades Captain would like.

They didn’t stop until they got to a room much like the one Captain Renault had died in, and where Craenari had been left alone with no one to help her.

Glenroy put a hand up, stopping everyone in their tracks. “Hold up,” he said. “I don’t like this. Let me take a look.”

Anxiety began roiling around in her stomach as the Imperial Blade descended the stairs and looked around. He motioned for them to follow him.

“Looks clear, come one, we’re almost to the sewers.”

“We’re going to the sewers?” Craenari asked, wrinkling her nose.

Glenroy rolled his eyes, and led the way to a gate. When he tried to open it, though, he couldn’t.

“Dammit!” he cried. “The gate is barred from the other side! A trap!”

“What about that side passage back there?” Baurus asked, pointing at an opening not far from them.

“Worth a try. Let’s go!”

He led the way into the side passage, but it didn’t lead anywhere. Instead, it was a dead end.

Angrily, Glenroy unsheathed his katana.

“It’s a dead end,” Baurus said. He turned to Glenroy. “What’s your call, sir?”

“I don’t know,” the Imperial said. “I don’t see any good options here.”

The sound of footsteps and yells came from the chamber they had just left.

“They’re behind us!” Glenroy said, and shouted at the Emperor, “Wait here, sire.”

Baurus unsheathed his own katana and turned to Craenari. “Wait here with the Emperor. Guard him with your _life_.”

She nodded, and watched as he followed Glenroy into the chamber, shouting, “For the Emperor!”

She continued staring at the opening, wanting to help fight, but she couldn’t leave the Emperor alone. She unsheathed the katana at her side and stood in front of the Emperor, ready to fight any assassin that came through to try and kill the Emperor.

A hand appeared on her arm, and she was turned around by the Emperor.

“My guards are strong and true, but even the might of the Blades cannot stand against the Power that rises to destroy us,” he said to her, his voice full of resignation. “The Prince of Destruction awakes, born anew in blood and fire. These cutthroats are but his mortal pawns. Take my Amulet. Give it to Jauffre. I have a secret son, and Jauffre alone knows where to find him. Find the last of my blood, and close shut the marble jaws of Oblivion.”

She blinked. “What Amulet?”

“The Amulet of Kings. It is the Empire’s sacred emblem of rulership. It must pass to the last of the Dragon’s Blood. Keep it safe from the pawns of the Destroyer.”

Tears pricked in her eyes. “So, this is goodbye?” Despite only just meeting him, she couldn’t bare to see him go. 

“For me, it ends here,” he said. “You are the only hope to stem the blood tide. Give me your hand.”

She held her hand out as he reached up to his neck, unclasping the jewel from around his neck. He placed it in her palm, curling her fingers around it, and looked into her eyes and smiled.

“I won’t forget you…” she said, her voice breaking and a lump in her throat forming.

He moved his hand to rest on her cheek, and he smiled mournfully at her, like he regretted giving her the burden the Amulet placed on her shoulders. “Remember me, and remember my words. This burden is now yours alone. You hold our future in your hands.”

With tears in her eyes, she looked down as he took his hand off her cheek, staring at the massive ruby jewel that glowed slightly in her hands, pulsating with a magic she would never know.

And it was in that moment, when her eyes were off the Emperor, that he died. Cut down by an assassin that had snuck in through a secret passage.

Her head flew up, eyes wide, hand clenching over the Amulet tighter.

Through the assassin’s helmet, she saw him smile cruelly. “Stranger, you chose a bad day to take up with the cause of the Septims.”

And then he swung his mace at her head.

She ducked, pulling the hand with the Amulet of the Kings backwards so he couldn’t get it, and thrust the katana in her other hand into the assassin’s stomach, between the chinks in his armour. As he died, the armour disappeared, leaving only a red robe on him.

As soon as he hit the floor, Baurus came running in. At the sight of the Emperor’s body, he faltered, the point of his katana hitting the stone floor. He took a shaky step forward, and then collapsed onto his knees next to the Emperor’s body, his katana skittering against the floor.

Sheathing her katana, she raised the hand against her mouth, covering it as a sob escaped her body, and she backed up until she was in the chamber, surrounded by dozens of dead assassins. Her eyes caught Glenroy, his body prone on the floor, his katana just out of reach of his fingers.

As soon as she saw it, she knew she had to do something about it. Shoving the Amulet of Kings into her sack, she stumbled over to his body and unbuckled the katana’s sheath and picked up the katana, sliding it into its sheath. And then she pulled the katana and its sheath off her hip, throwing the dagger and sack on the floor next to her feet.

She placed the two katanas on the floor and kneeled down, taking the drawstrings of the sack and tying them to a belt on the leather cuirass she had picked up earlier in the subterranean, and stuck the dagger inside. Then she picked up the katanas again and stepped into the antechamber, where Baurus was still kneeling stunned next to the Emperor’s body.

“We’ve failed,” he muttered as Craenari neared him. “I’ve… failed. The Blades are sworn to protect the Emperor, and now he and all his heirs are dead.” His voice picked up a panicked tone, and he leant over the Emperor’s torso and looked around his neck. “The Amulet, where’s the Amulet of Kings? It’s not on the Emperor’s body.”

Craenari pulled the Amulet out of her sack and held it up for him, holding both katanas in her left hand. “He gave it to me.”

Baurus looked at her, blinking, and pushed himself to his feet. “Strange. He saw something in you. Trusted you. They say it’s the Dragon Blood, that flows through the veins of every Septim. They see more than lesser men. The Amulet of Kings is a sacred symbol of the Empire. Most people think of the Red Crown, but that’s just jewellery. The Amulet has power. Only a true heir of the Blood can wear it, they say. He must have given it to you for a reason. Did he say why?”

She nodded. “I must take it to Jauffre.”

He blinked again in confusion. “Jauffre? He said that? Why?”

“There’s another heir.”

He shook his head. “Nothing I ever heard about. But Jauffre would be the one to know. He’s the Grandmaster of my Order. Although you might not think so to meet him. He lives quietly as a monk at Weynon Priory, near the city of Chorrol.”

She’d never been to Chorrol before. “How do I get there?”  


“First you need to get out of here,” he said. “Through that door must be the entrance to the sewers, past the locked gate. That’s where we were heading. It’s a secret way out of the Imperial City. Or it was supposed to be secret. Here,” he said, pulling a key out of his pack and handing it to her, and then a map as well. “You’ll need this key for the last door into the sewers, and the map will help you get to Chorrol.”

She blinked, glancing at the two items before looking back at him. “The sewers?”

He nodded. “There are rats and goblins down there… but from what I’ve seen of you, I’m guessing you’re an experienced rogue. Am I right?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Something like that.”

He nodded. “I thought so. A few rats and goblins won’t give you any troubles.”

“After the sewers, then what?”

“You _must_ get the Amulet to Jauffre,” he said. “Take no chances, but proceed to Weynon Priory immediately. Got it?”

She nodded. “Yes, I understand.”

“Good. The Emperor’s trust was well-placed.”

“What about you?” she asked. “What will you do?”

“I’ll stay here to guard the Emperor’s body, and make sure no one follows you. You’d better get moving.” His eyes drifted to the katanas she held, and she extended them towards him. “Thanks for recovering Captain Renault and Glenroy’s swords. I’ll see that they are given places of honour in the halls of the Blades.”

He took them, and she nodded.

Collecting herself, Craenari went to the secret passage the assassin came from and climbed through it, setting down on the other side. She shoved the Amulet of Kings deep into the sack on her side and pulled out the rusted dagger she had picked up earlier through the subterranean. She managed to tie the sheath to the leather cuirass she wore, and plucked at the string of the bow that crossed over her chest, starting through the hall the assassin had been in.

After the first corner, she saw the iron gate that had been locked beforehand, and the bodies of multiple assassins and Glenroy littering the floor. She stared at them for a second before she turned to the wooden door across the way. She held up the key Baurus had given her, unlocking the door before pushing it open, before putting the key in her sack.

On the other side of the door was a small room with a metal grate inside. She pushed it off the small well it sat on, and looked down to see metal rungs lining the wall. Wrinkling her nose at the smell that emitted from the hole, she swung her legs over the side and climbed down.

The sewers were a labyrinth of tunnels and bridges that were confusing. When she had turned the first corner and found herself hopelessly lost, she pulled out the map Baurus had given her, but found it was a map of Cyrodiil, not the sewers, with the major cities marked, as well as two places—one just below Chorrol, named Weynon Priory, and one above Bruma, named Cloud Ruler Temple. She groaned in annoyance and stuffed it into her sack again, pulling out a torch she could use to light her way.

There were rats and goblins through the sewers, just like Baurus had said, and she killed them as she made her way through the sewers. Multiple times, she had to backtrack because of dead ends, and other times she found she had circled back to a specific room, which she could tell only because of the body of a goblin floating in the stinky water in a canal between two platforms.

But, finally, she went through a tunnel and found daylight streaming through a gate, and she let out a whoop of joy. She ran towards it, throwing down the torch that was starting to sputter and die, and crashed into the gate. She tried to unlatch the gate, but it wouldn’t, so she took out Baurus’s key and unlocked it.

She pushed the gate open and slammed it shut behind her, laughing at finally being free of the place. She threw her arms out to bask in the sun that was inching towards the horizon, a grin on her face.

Turning around, she saw the magnificence of the Imperial City above her, and the White-Gold Tower that seemed to stretch towards the heavens. She’d seen the Imperial City from the outside only a few times in her life, as technically the Waterfront District was still part of the Imperial City, and she had been to Weye several times just to get out of the city and away from her mother.

But as she started climbing up the hill towards the bridge that connected the main part of the Imperial City to the Prisons, she knew she didn’t have to get away from her mother anymore, because she had _killed_ her mother. It was the reason why she had been in the Prisons in the first place, why she had been in the cell the Emperor used to escape the city.

When she got up to the bridge, she stuck her middle finger up at the Prisons on the other side of the bridge, glad that there were no guards stationed outside, and turned around and pushed open the heavy doors into the Market District.

She felt the doors moving quicker than they should have, and when she got to the other side she saw two guards helping her open them. She thanked them as they closed the doors, and they nodded back.

She opened her sack and dug through the contents, thinking that she might as well sell all the junk she collected from the Prisons’ subterranean. Finding some gems, she decided to go to Red Diamond Jewellery first, and then to Three Brothers’ Trade Goods to sell off the rest. Then she might go to A Fighting Chance and buy a proper sword.

Glad that she had a plan, she made her way to the jewellery store.

An hour later, with the sky darkening, she entered the Waterfront District, nodding at the people she knew as she passed. A lot of them looked at her with confusion, as most of them had seen her get dragged off screaming by several guards, but didn’t say anything. That, she was glad of.

She didn’t go to her mother’s house, which was Craenari’s now that she was dead. Instead, she went to the house Kal-Jereen shared with three other Argonians, and now Craenari’s brother, Liodeius. It wasn’t that far from Salfre’s house, and she passed it every time she headed home.

She got to the house and knocked on the door. After some banging and arguing from inside, an Argonian male, who was a bright red hue, opened the door, and he blinked at her in confusion.

“Craenari?” he asked in the raspy voice all Argonians had.

She grinned. “Hey, Skeeandros.”

“I thought you were in prison?” he asked.

“It’s a long story,” she said. “Can I come in?”

He nodded, and stepped to the side to let her in. She smiled at him and looked around the small shack, still surprised that four people could live in such a small place. But with minimal belongings and only bedrolls on the floor, they really didn’t take up much room.

Kal-Jereen was sitting on a bedroll with an Imperial child in her lap, feeding him soup with a spoon. She looked up as Liodeius clapped his small hands together, grinning at the spoon that had just left his mouth.

Her eyes widened as Craenari approached her, a happy smile on her face as she looked at her brother. He let out an excited giggle, and reached up for her, saying, “Raeni! Raeni!”

She picked up her two-year-old brother and held him on her hip, grinning at her.

“You were in prison!” Kal-Jereen exclaimed, placing the spoon in the soup next to her and standing up. “What happened?”

“As I told Skeeandros, it’s a long story,” she said. “And it involves the Emperor.”

“Of Tamriel?” Crashes-Through-the-Sand asked, looking up from the loaf of bread she had been nibbling at.

Friend-of-Thieves rolled his eyes at his sister. “What other Emperor is there?”

“Tell us the story!” Skeeandros said excitedly.

“I want to hear a story!” Liodeius exclaimed happily.

So she told them, keeping out the parts where people died so she wouldn’t ruin her brother’s innocence. Of course, when it came time to tell everyone of the Emperor’s death, she covered his ears so he couldn’t hear, which made him pout, sticking out his bottom lip as far as it would go.

“I don’t believe you,” Crashes-Through-the-Sand said, scoffing.

Craenari raised her brow. “It’s the truth.”

“Then prove it.”

Her pride too much for her, she dug her hand into the sack that was now tied to the belt of a simple steel sword she had gotten from A Fighting Chance, she pulled out the Amulet of Kings and held it up by the chain for everyone to see.

All of their eyes widened, and Liodeius reached towards the massive ruby, but Craenari pulled it away from him.

“No way,” Skeeandros muttered.

“Yes way,” she said.

Kal-Jereen reached towards it. “Can I touch it?”

Craenari put it back in her pack. “No. I need to get it to some guy in Chorrol.”

“So,” Friend-of-Thieves muttered, “the Emperor’s dead?”

She nodded sadly. “Yes.”

“When are you leaving for Chorrol?” Skeeandros asked.

“In the morning,” she said. She turned to Kal-Jereen. “Thank you for looking after my brother, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to look after him for longer. You can take my house while I’m gone, so you’re not all cramped in here, but I have to do this. I promised the Emperor I would.”

“Of course I will,” the Argonian said. “Anything for a friend.”

She smiled, and then she set off for her house with her brother, planning on dropping him off in the morning.

She wouldn’t be too long, all she had to do was give Jauffre the Amulet and then she’d be back.

At least, that’s what she thought. It didn’t exactly end like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The things that Uriel said are actual game dialogue, from an extremely rare occurrence where it replaces the normal one. Thought it would be a nice change from the normal dialogue.


	5. To Kvatch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Craenari’s feet hurt as she neared Chorrol, following the signposts that pointed towards the city. It had taken her all day to get there, and she could see the city in the distance as she passed a farm with several men working it.

She didn’t have to get to the city, though, just the Priory outside its gates, where the Grandmaster of the Blades was living as a monk. As she approached Weynon Priory, she saw a Dunmer working as a stablehand, leading a horse through the arch of the Priory and to the stable beyond. 

She pushed herself to the doors and entered the Priory, and she was immediately met with an old man with a bald spot on the top of his head, like all monks.

“Yes? Can I help?” the monk asked.

“I need to speak with a man named Jauffre,” she said.

He nodded. “He’s upstairs. Go ahead.”

She thanked him and went upstairs, turning right into a study. Behind a desk was a man that also had a shining bald spot on his head, reading a book, who looked up as she approached him.

“I’m Brother Jauffre,” he said. “What do you want?”

“The Emperor sent me to find you.”

He blinked, lowering the book he was reading. “Emperor Uriel? What do you know about his death?”

News travelled fast. She saw a copy of the Black Horse Courier on the edge of his desk, with the word “Assassination!” across the top. Very fast, it seemed.

She looked back at him. “I was there when he died.”

He pushed himself to his feet, his fingertips pressed against the wooden desk in front of him. “You’d better explain yourself. Now.”

“He gave me the Amulet of Kings,” she said, hand digging into her pack to find it. During her walk it had been jostled, and apparently fell to the bottom.

He blinked in confusion. “You brought me the Amulet of Kings? This cannot be. Let me see it.”

She found it and pulled it out of the pack, holding it by its chain, much like she had the day before while showing her Argonian friends. 

He reached forward and took it. “By the Nine! This IS the Amulet of Kings!” He looked up at her with an accusing glare. “Who are you? How did you get this? What do you know of the Emperor’s death?”

She told him what happened, and what the Emperor had said to her before the assassin cut him down. The entire time she spoke, Jauffre lowered himself back into his chair, holding a tight grip around the Amulet of Kings.

He sighed. “As unlikely as your story sounds, I believe you. Only the strange destiny of Uriel Septim could have brought you to me carrying the Amulet of Kings.”

““Close shut the jaws of Oblivion”?” she asked him.

“His meaning is unclear to me as well,” Jauffre said. “The Emperor seemed to perceive some threat from the demonic world of Oblivion. The Prince of Destruction, Mehrunes Dagon, is one of the lords of Oblivion. But the mortal world is protected from the daedra of Oblivion by magical barriers.”

“How can Oblivion threaten us, then?”

“I’m not sure. Only the Emperors truly understand the meaning behind the rituals of coronation. The Amulet of Kings is ancient. Saint Alessia herself received it from the gods. It is a holy relic of great power. When an emperor is crowned, he uses the Amulet of Kings to light the Dragonfires at the Temple of the One in the Imperial City. With the Emperor dead and no new heir crowned, the Dragonfires in the Temple with be dark, for the first time in centuries. It may be that the Dragonfires protected us from a threat that only the Emperor was aware of.”

“The Emperor asked me to find his son,” Craenari said.

He nodded. “I am one of the few who know of his existence. Many years ago, I served as captain of Uriel’s bodyguard, the Blades. One night Uriel called me into his private chambers. A baby boy lay sleeping in a basket. Uriel told me to deliver him somewhere safe. He never told me anything else about the baby, but I knew it was his son. From time to time he would ask about the child’s progress. Now, it seems the illegitimate son is the heir to the Septim Throne. If he yet lives.”

“So you don’t know where he is?” she asked.

“I do, actually,” he said. “His name is Martin. He serves Akatosh in the Chapel in the city of Kvatch, south of here. You must go to Kvatch and find him at once. If the enemy is aware of his existence, as seems likely, he is in terrible danger. And please, let me know if there’s anything you need. My resources here are limited, but I will help in any way I can.”

She nodded, and went to leave when he spoke again.

“You can stay the night here. We should have some spare clothing for you to sleep in. I know you need to go, but it’s getting late, and you must be tired.”

She smiled at him. “Yes, I am. Thank you.”

He stood up from his desk and led her to where the monks slept, and showed her where a spare bed was. She thanked him again as he got her clothes, telling her that dinner would be starting shortly if she wanted some food.

She placed the clothes on the bed she would be sleeping in and followed him downstairs.

* * *

The next day, she was given a horse by Prior Maborel, so she would get to Kvatch quicker, though it was still going to take two days. She was also given a bedroll and supplies for the journey there and back, and then she mounted the horse with the help of the stablehand, as that was the first time she had been on a horse, and started south towards Skingrad, where she would head east to Kvatch.

She went through the forest, not on the path, so the journey would be quicker. If she followed the road, it would take three days just to get to Kvatch, and then another three to get back. But by going through the forests, it would cut the journey by two days both ways, and they needed the shortest possible journey to get to Martin as fast as she could. The only reason she was even going to Skingrad was to get more supplies, and then she’d get more in Kvatch and go straight to Chorrol.

The trip to Skingrad was uneventful. She managed to not get attacked by anything, despite the place being heavily wooded and populated with wolves, but she was glad it was uneventful. She spent her time reading books she got from the Priory, so she knew more about the Amulet of Kings that was currently locked in the secret room behind the cupboard in Jauffre’s office.

It was dark when she got to Skingrad, and she stabled Prior Maborel’s horse before entering the city. She got a room at the Two Sisters Lodge and fell asleep straight away from the hard day of travel she just had. In the morning, she went to Colovian Traders and got more supplies, using the money the Priory had given her, and then she was back on the road to Kvatch, now on the actual road because the only way to reach Kvatch was to go through its one entrance, which was connected to a path that wound itself up the side of the mountain the city sat on.  


The second day was much more eventful than the first. She was attacked by a bandit, but she managed to outrun him with Prior Maborel’s horse, and as she approached Kvatch as the sun lowered over the horizon, she saw people _fleeing_ the city.

She turned onto the road leading to Kvatch, the sky a dull grey, and saw a makeshift camp not far up it. There were people crowded around fires, and there were children crying. She blinked at the sight, confused, until a High Elf man ran up to her.

“Come on! Run while there’s still time! The Guard still hold the road, but it’s only a matter of time before they’re overwhelmed!”

“Run?” she asked. “Run from what?”

His eyes widened. “Gods’ blood, you don’t know, do you? Daedra overran Kvatch last night! There were glowing portals outside the walls! Gates to Oblivion itself! There was a huge creature… something out of a nightmare… came right over the walls… blasting fire. They swarmed around it… killing…”

“The whole city can’t be destroyed.”

He scoffed, his arm flying at the city atop the hill. “Go and see for yourself! Kvatch is a smoking ruin! We’re all that’s left, do you understand me? Everyone else is dead!”

“How did you escape?” she asked.

He lowered his arm. “It was Savlian Matius… some of the other guards… helped some of us escape… they cut their way out, right through the city gates. Savlian says they can hold the road. No… no, I don’t believe him. Nothing can stop them. If you’d seen it, you’d know…” He shook his head. “I’m getting out of herebefore it’s too late! They’ll be here any minute, I’m telling you. Run while you can!”

He ran down the road she had come from, and turned onto the road to Anvil.

Looking up at the walls of the city, Craenari couldn’t see anything wrong with it, but for some reason, she believed the elf. No one would say something like that unless it was true.

Kicking Prior Maborel’s horse to move, she guided the stallion through the makeshift camp and up the winding road at a gallop, faster than she’d ever been on a horse, including that time she ran away from a bandit.

The switchback road was longer than she thought it would be, the sky darkening the further up the path she got before it turned blood red, and she spurred Prior Maborel’s horse to go faster.

At the last turn she stopped the horse and dismounted, throwing herself onto the ground behind a Kvatch guard that was crouched behind spikes. She ran the length of the spikes and went to run into the courtyard of Kvatch, not noticing anything that was going on around her. That was, until she was jerked to a halt with hands on her arms, and she was thrown backwards, onto the cobblestone, scraping her hands.

She hissed as they stung, and she got to her feet to see who was most likely the Captain of the Guard standing above her, a hand out to stop her from running towards Kvatch.

“Stay back, civilian!” he yelled at her, and a wave of guards rushed forward.

Craenari looked over the guard’s shoulder to see a massive portal in front of Kvatch’s gate, red like the sky and the small drops of blood that fell from her scraped hands and onto the cobblestone. Creatures, ones she’d never seen before, had emerged from the portal, and started attacking the guards, small creatures that threw fire and others that rammed their enemies.

“This is no place for you. Get back to the encampment at once!”

“What happened here?” she asked.

He growled—actually _growled_ —at her. “We lost the damn city, that’s what happened! It was too much, too fast. We were overwhelmed. Couldn’t even get anyone out. There are still people trapped in there. Some made it into the Chapel, but others were just run down in the streets. The Count and his men are still holed up in the castle. And now we can’t even get back into the city to help them, with that damned Oblivion Gate blocking the way.”

Her eyes widened. There were still people in the chapel. “I need to get in there!”

“Didn’t you just hear me?” he barked at her. “We can’t get in until that Gate is closed, and we don’t know how to close it.”

“Can they even be closed?” she asked.

He nodded. “The Gate they used to destroy the city closed. You can see the marks on the floor.” He shook his head. “Why am I telling you this? You’re a civilian, and a child at that. You need to get back to the encampment.”

“I can help!” she cried. “I can help close the Gate.”

“What can you do? You’re a _child_.”

She scowled. “I’m sixteen! And I’m not part of the guard, so you won’t be losing men by sending me in there! I can _help!_ ”

He stared at her for a moment, before looking over his shoulder to see the guard cutting down the last daedra. He worked his jaw and turned back to her. “Fine. I sent some men in there earlier, and they haven’t come back. If they’re still alive, they can help you. But it’s a death sentence.”

The guards returned behind the spikes, and the guard ordered them to let Craenari through. They watched as she passed, and she realised that the man was Savlian Matius, the man that High Elf had said wasn’t going to be holding the road for long.

As she approached the Gate to Oblivion, she wondered if she was crazy. Just a week before, if she had been told to go through the Gate and find a way to close it, she would’ve said nope and gone home. But now, she was _willingly_ approaching it, had _chosen_ to enter it.

She stopped an arm’s length in front of it, and looked up. It towered over her, making her feel small, but that was a usual feeling. She was a small person. But standing at the foot of the Gate made her feel like an ant.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, and entered the Oblivion Gate.


	6. Oblivion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Craenari could feel the heat before she stepped halfway through it. Her eyes closed at the heat of it all, and she raised her arm in front of her, wanting to shield herself, but knew it wasn’t possible.

She lowered her arms and opened her eyes, and she almost fainted at the sight in front of her.

There was a massive tower in the middle of the Plane, a bridge leading to it, but there was a barrier over it that would stop anything from crossing it. On the path before her, which was so hot it glowed red, was the charred remains of a body. Below the bridge was a lake of lava, and she knew that even going near it would be the death of her.

She swallowed the bile in her throat and looked down at herself. She was still wearing the rough leather cuirass and boots she had picked up in the Imperial Subterranean, but she had purchased a pair of leather greaves at A Fighting Chance. Along with the steel sword at her hip, she also had a steel bow slung over her shoulder and neck, with a quiver of iron arrows she had also picked up in the subterranean, as well as a dozen steel ones from Rohssan, the blacksmith in A Fighting Chance.

She swallowed more bile. In a place like this, she wouldn’t last five minutes.

As a precaution, she unsheathed her sword and started down the path, stepping around the burned body, and down a path that ran adjacent to the bridge before turning left slightly. Halfway down that path, she saw a man in Kvatch guard uniform fighting a daedra that rammed into him, much like some of the ones that were outside Kvatch.

He cut down the daedra before turning and charging at her. She let out a scream and ran to the side, only to see him attacking a daedra that shot fireballs from its hands. When that was dead, he turned to her, but didn’t attack.

“Thank the Nine!” he exclaimed. “I never thought I’d see another friendly face… The others… taken… they were taken to the tower!”

“It’s alright,” she said, trying to soothe him, though she didn’t think it was possible to be soothed in a place like this. “What’s going on?”

He took a deep breath and spoke. “Captain Matius sent us in to try and close the gate. We were ambushed, trapped, and picked off. I managed to escape, but the others were strewn across that bridge. They took Menien off to the big tower. You’ve got to save him! I’m getting out here!”

“Fine,” she said, though she wasn’t fine. She was scared to be alone, but she couldn’t force him to be there. “Captain Matius needs your help.”

He blinked in surprise. “The Captain is still holding the barricade? I figured I was the last one left alive. Alright. I’ll try to get out of here and let the Captain know what’s going on.”

He sheathed his sword and ran for the portal that would take him to Kvatch. Craenari wished she was going with him.

Panic started enveloping her as she started down the path again, this time running to get through the Plane of Oblivion quicker, because _oh Gods, she was in Oblivion_.

She passed pods that looked like they were made with human skin, and decided to stay far away from them. As she closed in on daedra, she killed them, getting used to using a sword, from all the killing she’d done in the past couple days.

Had it really been three days since the Emperor had died? It didn’t feel like it.

After getting through the winding path with rubble, dangerous flora, and daedra that tried to kill her whenever they saw her, she found herself at the base of the tower, and she pushed the door open and closed it behind her, leaning on it and taking deep breaths, trying to get her breath back from the physical exertion of using her sword and running through Oblivion.

But she couldn’t rest for long. In front of her was a circular room with a beam of yellowish-red energy pouring out of the ground and towards the top of the tower. Behind it, she could see a daedra, and there was another one in front of a door. 

Sheathing her sword, she pulled the bow off her shoulder and crouched in the entrance. The two daedra hadn’t seen her, so she still had the element of surprise. She pulled an arrow out of her quiver, noticing it was one of the steel ones she bought, and aimed it at the daedra in front of the door. If she killed it, she could run through the door and close it behind her. She doubted they could use doorknobs.

Exhaling, she let the arrow fly. It bounced off the wall to the daedra’s left, and she ducked behind the section of wall the door was sunk into and covered her mouth.

She had _missed_.

Tears started forming in her eyes and her heart beat erratically, so loudly that she was surprised the daedra couldn’t hear it. Slowly taking her hand away from her mouth, she peeked around the corner to see the daedra readying a fireball between its clawed fingers, looking around for the source.

She breathed a sigh of relief. It didn’t know where she was.

She nocked another arrow and aimed the tip at it, not wanting to take long in case it saw her, but taking her time so she knew it would hit it. On her exhale, her heat still beating frantically, she let the arrow fly.

The arrow sunk into its chest, and fell to the ground.

Holding her bow to her body, she rounded the wall and sprinted towards the door, hand reached out to push it open. But when she got there, all she did was hurt her hand. The door didn’t move.

Looking over her shoulder as panic erupted in her again, she tried pushing the door again, and then tried looking for a door handle for her to pull, but there wasn’t one. But she did find groves in the door halfway up it, and she dug her fingers into it and pulled.

The door slid open, spikes on the inside of the door making her want to faint, especially the blood that coated them, but she stepped through the doorway, and she turned around to close it.

She shook her fingers, sore from the door, and saw that she was in a hallway. It continued on to the left, before getting smaller and going up. She followed the hall, her bow in her hand ready to use, and turned a corner before finding herself at a door exactly like the one below.

She slung the bow over her shoulder and pulled the door apart, only to scream at seeing a daedra on the other side of it, already swinging a sword at her face.

She ducked the sword, pulling her own sword out of its sheath. In the same movement, she sliced the daedra’s stomach open, before ramming the sword through its chest. She planted a foot on its chest and pulled the sword out, attacking another daedra creature that was in the room.

When it was dead, she stared down at the first daedra. She had seen drawings of it before, especially in her mother’s journal, where she detailed all of her sexual dealings, and knew that it was a dremora.

If they didn’t have horns and didn’t have red and black skin, they would look human.

She went through another door and found herself face-to-face with the beam of yellowish-red energy from the ground floor. The tower must’ve been built around it, and the balcony Craenari stood on was to get near it, or something.

Shaking her head, she started up the ramp to her right, and through another door that lead her to another hallway. It curved upwards and to the right, around the central chamber she had just left, and into another room like the first one. She killed the daedra inside and stared at the two doors that lead out of the room, one to her left and one in front of her.

She opened the one to her left, but immediately closed it and went to the second one. She tried to pull it open, but it wouldn’t move. Swearing, she tried prying it open again, but again, it wouldn’t budge. And then she spotted the keyhole just underneath the groove that allowed her to open the door, and she swore. The lock was probably one she had never seen before, as it was another Plane than Nirn, and she went back to the first door.

She opened it, and stared out into the expanse of Oblivion. In front of her was a bridge, with another tower on the other side of the bridge, but it was smaller than the one she was on.

She glanced down, seeing how far she would fall if she did, in fact, fall, and instantly regretted it. Her knees locked up, and her palms planted themselves on the small bit of wall on that side of the doorway, not wanting her hands to be stabbed with spikes.

She hated heights. Always had, and probably always will. She was petrified of them, and of falling.

But it was the only way forward.

Letting out a shaky breath, she lowered herself to her knees and laid flat on the bridge. Then, using her arms and feet, moved forward inch by inch, until she was at the other tower. It used time she probably didn’t have, but she was not going to fall.

In front of the door, she climbed to her feet and opened the door, only to let out a scream. On the other side of the door, hanging from a piece of rope, was a rotten body on fire. Calming her heart, she looked up, seeing a piece of glass with a cage above it, and she went up the ramp.

A dremora was waiting for her with its mace in its hand.

“You should not be here, mortal. Your blood is forfeit, your flesh is mine!”

It swung the mace at her, and she dodged out of the way, unsheathing her own weapon. She raised it just in time to catch the mace on its blade, stopping it in its motion. She kicked the dremora in the stomach, and it stumbled backwards, its grip falling off the mace’s handle, and she threw it to the side before she charged at the dremora, sword pointed at its chest.

The sword pierced its chest, and the dremora sputtered as it died. She pulled the sword out and looked over at the cage, where an old man was cowering, his arms above his head.

He must have been Menien, the guard that had been taken.

When he realised the dremora was dead, he lowered his arms, and then grasped the iron bars of the cage, pressing his face inside a hole. “Quickly, quickly! There is no time! You must get to the top of the large tower. The Sigil Keep, they call it. That’s what keeps the Oblivion Gate open! Find the Sigil Stone. Remove it, and the Gate will close! Hurry! The Keeper has the key—you must get the key!”

“What about you?” she asked him.

“To Oblivion with me! You need to close the Gate!”

She nodded, and rushed over to the dead dremora, pulling the key from around its neck, and ran down the slope to the still-opened door leading out.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped onto the bridge. There was no time for her to crawl over. It wouldn’t be long before Captain Matius’s barricade broke, if it hadn’t already.

With her heart somehow speeding up, she stared at the door on the other side of the bridge, and walked. She didn’t look down, she didn’t think about the drop—all she thought about was closing the Gate.

She didn’t know what would happen when she did. Would she have time to leave? She hoped so. She didn’t want to be stuck in Oblivion for all of eternity.

She reached the other side of the bridge and let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. With the key in her hand, she made her way to the door and unlocked it, sliding it open. Behind it was a hall that went up and turned into another room. After killing the daedra that was in it, she passed through the next door, and found herself in the central chamber again, this time much higher up.

Again, she didn’t look down, only at her destination. She cut down dremora and daedra alike, and went through the next door.

Only for it to be a dead end.

She swore and, trying to keep herself from vomiting at what looked like hearts stretched open, she backtracked to the first room and opened another door with the Sigil Key. This one went upwards and curved to the right, around the central chamber she had just left, and was guarded by a dremora wizard. She killed it, and entered the central chamber again, this time in the right spot.

She went up the slope that hugged the wall and found that there was nowhere to go. Had she come to a dead end already? No, that wasn’t possible, there were no other ramps on this level.

Then she spotted a platform situated next to her. Shrugging, and not having anything to lose, she stepped onto it.

She felt air blow up fro beneath her, red particles floating in front of her eyes, and then she was somewhere else. Breathing deeply from exertion, she stepped off the platform and ran around the entirety of the room, getting to the ramp that would take her up. On the way, she killed a daedra, and kept her sword by her side the entire time, in case something else came to attack her—which was very likely, considering where she was.

She killed a dremora that was lobbing sparks at her, and tried to open the next door, but it was locked. Putting the key that was hanging around her neck into the lock, she unlocked the door, and slid it open, revealing a hall she hadn’t seen before.

It was a pale grey instead of red and black, and looked almost spiky to the touch. She ran up the hall and through a doorway, only to stop dead when she saw the floor in the middle of the chamber.

It looked like human skin, and she almost threw up.

Swallowing the bile, she pushed herself forward, up a set of spikes that acted as stairs, and up a ramp that also looked like human skin, and stopped dead in front of where the energy that had been shooting up the middle of the tower stopped.

In front of her was a Sigil Stone. _The_ Sigil Stone that was keeping the Oblivion Gate opened.

She heard the cry of a dremora below her, and panicking, she ran forward and thrust her arms into the energy, expecting it to be searing hot but it was cold, ice cold, and chilled her to her bones. Her fingers wrapped around the Sigil Stone and pulled it out of beam of energy, which took more energy than she thought, considering it was hovering in midair. But there was resistance, and it wasn’t until she planted her feet and pulled with all her might that it came loose from its spot, and she stumbled backwards, the cold Sigil Stone in her hands.

The Sigil Keep began to crumble around her, crashing down onto the fleshy platform she stood on. Fire sprung up, the flames licking at her skin, and she let out a loud scream as the floor beneath her feet crumbled, and she began falling.


	7. The Heir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Craenari was falling, and all she could do was scream.

She watched as the Sigil Keep crumbled around her, everything below her disappearing before she reached it, the entire tower she had climbed flashing before her eyes as she plummeted to her death.

But then she landed on hard ground, her two feet spread shoulder-width apart, with the Sigil Stone clutched to her chest, her eyes wide. Next to her, Menien was swaying where he stood, and then let out a whoop of joy.

She blinked, and her eyes came into focus, though her breath was still quick and her heart beat erratically. She was in the courtyard in front of Kvatch, staring at the doors leading into the ruined city.

Behind her, she heard cries of joy. Finally moving, she looked over her shoulder to see Captain Matius and the other Kvatch guards cheering for her, and the Gate that was now closed.

Captain Matius came running up to her, a wide grin overtaking his face. “You closed the Gate? I knew you could do it! This is our chance to counterattack!” He grasped her arms, startling her out of whatever stupor she was in. “I need you to come with us. You’ve got far more combat experience than these men. Are you able to join us now? I can wait, but not for long. We’ve got to move quickly, before they have a chance to barricade the city gate.”

She swallowed the saliva in her mouth and stared at him with wide eyes, still clutching the Sigil Stone to her chest. “I was just in Oblivion, and almost fell to my death. I’m gonna need a minute.”

He nodded. “Of course. But be quick, we can’t let the daedra have the upper hand.”

She nodded back, and tried to calm her beating heart. From the way it was going, it was going to give out by the end of the day—or, night, as the sun had set, and a darkness had swept over the burning city.

She stayed true to her word, and a minute later, she was following the city guard into the city, finally letting go of the Sigil Stone. Menien stayed back, and started towards the encampment at the foot of the hill by himself, as there was no one spare to help him, but he said he would manage.

Kvatch really was in ruins. Houses were just rubble, and bodies littered the floor. Daedra patrolled the areas void of rubble, looking for their next victim.

But, miraculously, the chapel was still standing. The doors were mostly likely barricaded, though, so the daedra didn’t get in and kill whoever was inside—if there were people inside. Craenari hoped so, otherwise the Empire, and the world, were already dead. There were no more heirs to keep the forces of Oblivion at bay.

The daedra spotted them, and it was a bloodbath. The guard charged at them, and the daedra attacked back. A dremora came from the rubble of a house next to the chapel, and started aiming spells at everyone. Guards fell, daedra were killed.

And in all this chaos, Craenari stood at the city gate, terrified for her life.

Because she didn’t _have_ combat experience. She had been holding a sword for five days, and three of those days was her travelling. Sure, she had a little training, but that was just a precaution the thieves that inhabited the Waterfront District wanted her to take. She hadn’t _properly_ used a sword until five days earlier.

But she told Captain Matius that she would help him, and she was a woman of her word. She unsheathed her sword, took a shaky breath, and jumped into the fray.

By the time they had killed all the daedra, there were only five guards left, from the twelve that had entered the city.

Craenari made her way to the doors of the chapel and tried to open them, but as she predicted, it was barricaded from inside. She raised her fist and knocked on the door loudly.

From inside came a shuffle, and a muffled, “Who is it?”

“We’re city watch,” Captain Matius said. “Let us in, the daedra are gone.”

More shuffling, and then the sound of things moving. A couple minutes later, the doors were opened, revealing a Redguard woman and an Imperial man in guard uniforms, the latter having a hand on his sheathed sword.

They both let out sighs of relief when they saw who it was.

“Captain Matius,” the Redguard said. “You’re alive.”

He nodded. “Report, soldier.”

“Sir, we’re all that’s left,” she said, sadness in her voice. “Berich Inian, myself, and these civilians.”

Craenari knew it was rude to interrupt, but she was so close to finding Martin that she couldn’t help herself. “Is there a Martin among the living?”

The Imperial guard, who she assumed was Berich Inian, nodded. “Brother Martin is by the altar. He’s been helping the injured and praying to the gods for help.”

She thanked him, and rushed over to the altar, leaving the guards in their conversation.

There was a man in bluish-grey robes kneeling at the altar in prayer. Again, she knew it was rude to interrupt someone while they were praying, but it was a matter of life and death.

She cleared her throat, and the man stopped muttering, looking at her and blinking. “Have you brought help?” He climbed to his feet. “We’ve been trapped here since the Daedra overran the city.”

“Are you Brother Martin?” she asked, hope evident in her voice.

He nodded. “I am. Why?”

“You need to come with me,” she said. “You’re in danger.”

He scoffed. “Of course I’m in danger. But I’m needed here. I can’t leave. I assume you didn’t risk your own life to come here to tell me something I already know. Who are you and what do you want?”

But as he said that, a spark of familiarity lit up his pale blue eyes, identical to the Emperor’s, though she didn’t know why. She had never met him in her life—she’d never even been to Kvatch.

“My name is Craenari,” she said. “You _are_ Martin, correct? The priest?”

“I’ve already said so, and yes, I’m a priest. Do you need a priest? I don’t think I’ll be much help to you. I’m having trouble understanding the gods right now. If this is all part of a divine plan, I’m not sure I want to have anything to do with it.”

“Gods or not, we need your help.”

He shook his head and took a step backwards. “If you came to me for help, you’re more of a fool than you look. What good is a priest?”

“You’re Uriel Septim’s son,” she said, looking him in the eyes.

He blinked in confusion. “Emperor Uriel Septim? You think the emperor is my father?” He shook his head again. “No, you must have the wrong man. I am a priest of Akatosh. My father was a farmer.”

“The Emperor knew you were in danger.”

His eyes widened. “You spoke to the Emperor before he died? And he told you to find me?”

“Why would I lie to you?”

“I don’t know,” he said, and hesitated before continuing. “It’s strange… I think you might actually be telling the truth. What does this mean? What do you want from me?”

“Come with me to Weynon Priory.”

He thought for a moment, before shaking his head. “No. I’m sorry, but even if what you say is true, I won’t abandon these people to their fate. I’ll go with you when we can all leave together.”

He took a couple steps backwards, and then turned away.

She swore, and marched to where Captain Matius was still speaking with the two guards that had managed to hide in the chapel.

* * *

Martin was sure he had seen a ghost. Looking over his shoulder to where the girl—Craenari, she had said—was going back to the guards, he thought back to his teenage years, which he was quite ashamed of.

She was a spitting image of one of his fellow Sanguine worshippers, except for the eyes, which were a piercing, pale blue instead of deep brown. But there was no denying, Craenari was Salfre’s daughter.

But those eyes. They were also familiar.

He shook his head and turned to a woman cradling a baby to her chest. He smiled at her, and he told himself that he would think about it later.

There were more important things to do right now.

* * *

“If this town is to be ours again,” Captain Matius was saying, though Craenari was only half-listening, “we’ll need to get inside the castle. You’ve come with us this far; will you go further? If we’re going to succeed, I’ll need much more of your help. I warn you though, what we’ve seen so far is nothing compared to the battle that likely awaits us. Take a few moments to catch your breath and think it over. When you’re ready, let me know, and we’ll get underway.”

“Let’s get this over with,” she muttered.

“Our goal is the Castle gate,” he said, and nodded at the door opposite the one they used to enter the chapel. “We should be able to use this door to get out to the plaza in front of the Castle gatehouse. You know the drill. Stick close, and keep your eyes open. Let’s move out!”

All the guards charged at the door, except the Redguard, who started ushering people out of the other door to leave the city. Craenari glanced at Martin as he helped someone stand, and he looked back at her.

Captain Matius was still standing next to her, waiting to leave. Craenari turned to him.

“I can’t go with you.”

He blinked at her. “What? Why not?”

“I’m on a very important mission, and I need to get back to Chorrol. I’m sorry.”

He nodded. “Fine. We’ll get by without you.”

And then he left through the doors as Martin approached her.

“You destroyed the Oblivion Gate, they say,” he said, not looking her in the eyes. “You gave them hope. You helped them drive the daedra back.”

“Will you come with me?” she asked him.

He nodded. “Yes. I’ll come with you to Weynon Priory. I’ll help you with whatever you need.”

A smile graced her lips, and she felt happiness for the first time since she got to Kvatch. “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, I know, but it's mostly a filler chapter (except for the whole 'getting to Martin' thing). The next one will be longer, I promise.


	8. Cloud Ruler Temple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and reviewing.

The journey to Chorrol took two days. They started heading straight there, deciding to go the quickest route there instead of passing through Skingrad, like Craenari had before. They didn’t get far from the still-burning city before they stopped for the night, using the bedrolls Jauffre had packed for them.

The next day had been mostly uneventful. They were attacked by a couple of wolves, but besides that, there was nothing. The third day, with the sun beating down on them high in the sky, they approached Weynon Priory, only for them to find everything in disarray.

The Dunmer stablehand, Eronor, ran up to them, with a panicked look on his face.

“Help!” he cried. “You must help! They’re killing everyone at Weynon Priory!”

“Hold on,” Craenari said, a feeling of deja vu sweeping over her. “Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know! I think they’re right behind me! Prior Maborel is dead! I was in the sheepfold when they attacked. I heard the Prior talking to someone. Looked around the corner to see who it was. They looked like travellers, ordinary. Suddenly, weapons appeared in their hands and they cut the Prior down before he could move! They saw me watching and I ran!”

“Where’s Jauffre?” she asked. “Is he safe?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. In the chapel praying, I think. You must help us!”

As he said that, several men in familiar spiky-looking armour and red robes burst out of the Priory, blood coating the maces they held in their hands. Eronor screamed and bolted up the road toward Chorrol, probably to tell the guard.

“Stay back,” Craenari told Martin, and unsheathed her sword.

She still didn’t know how to use it properly—though the past couple days she had gotten extremely good at it—and she didn’t want to kill anyone, but it was necessary. She couldn’t let them harm Martin, he was the only person that could light the Dragonfires and stop what happened in Kvatch happen anywhere else.

She charged at the assassins as Jauffre came out of the chapel, wielding a two-handed dai-katana. It wasn’t long before they were all dead.

Jauffre came up to her. “You’re back. Thank Talos! I was praying in the chapel when I heard Prior Maborel shout. I had just enough time to arm myself.” His eyes widened. “The Amulet of Kings! I fear that was the target of this attack. I kept it in a secret room of Weynon House. We need to go see if it is safe.”

He sheathed his sword and led the way into the Priory, going up to his office. The door that the secret room was behind had been pried open, and when they looked inside they saw that the chest the Amulet of Kings was in was now empty.

Jauffre swore loudly. “They’ve taken it! The Amulet of Kings is gone! The enemy has defeated us at every turn!”

“I found Martin,” Craenari said, motioning to the man behind her.

He raised a hand and waved at the old Blade.

He let out a sigh of relief. “So it has not all gone against us. Thank Talos for that! We gained Uriel’s heir, and lost the Amulet of Kings.” He shook his head. “Martin cannot stay here. We have driven them off, but they will be back once they learn of Martin’s survival. Which they will.”

“Where will he be safe?” she asked.

“Nowhere is truly safe against the power arrayed against us. But we must play for time, at least… Cloud Ruler Temple, I think. The hidden fortress of the Blades, in the mountains near Bruma. A few men can hold it against an army. We should leave at once.”

Craenari nodded, and looked over her shoulder at Martin. He had been silent the entire conversation, and she had a feeling he was just going to follow what everyone told him to, at least for now. Not really something you want in an Emperor, but she could tell that he was rattled. She would be too, if she was told she would be the next Empress of Tamriel.

She turned to him fully. “It’s going to be okay, Martin.”

“Funny, how a child is comforting the adult,” he said. “Thank you, though. It was brave what you did in Kvatch. I would never have been able to close an Oblivion Gate.”

“So you’re the one that stopped the siege of Kvatch,” Jauffre said behind her.

She blinked, and turned to look at him. The Black Horse Courier was extremely efficient, she knew that, but she didn’t realise it was _that_ efficient.

“They’re calling you the Hero of Kvatch,” the man continued. “Well done.”

_Hero_. That word played through her mind the entirety of the journey to Cloud Ruler Temple. She’d never been called a hero before. Thief, yes. Murderer, definitely. But never hero.

Martin kept glancing at her over the two day journey, as well, whenever he thought she wasn’t watching. There was something about those glances that she couldn’t place, almost like he was looking for someone in her, though she didn’t know who. If he was a worshipper of Sanguine, she would say her mother, of whom she looked exactly alike, but he was a priest of Akatosh, and Salfre didn’t hang around the religious types.

Those were the two things she was pondering as Prior Maborel’s horse took her through the Jerall Mountains, alongside Martin’s, with Jauffre in front of them, leading the way. It had been only the three of them, but Jauffre had felt that he and Craenari could handle anyone that tried to attack Martin.

They took a sharp turn, and a stone fort came into view, the parapets patrolled by men and women in Blades armour. As they approached, someone shouted from one of the parapets.

They got to the doors that lead into the fort, and they were pushed open by a Redguard man, a key hanging around his neck.

“Grandmaster,” he said, “is this…?”

“Yes, Cyrus,” Jauffre nodded. “This is the Emperor’s son. Martin Septim.”

The Blade, Cyres, stood ramrod straight, pounding his right fist into the left side of his chestplate. “My lord! Welcome to Cloud Ruler Temple! We have not had the honour of an Emperor’s visit in many years!”

Martin looked uncomfortable. “Ah, well, thank you! The honour is mine.”

Jauffre took a step forward. “Come. Your Blades are waiting to greet you.”

Cyres turned on his heel and led the way up the stairs, where the other Blades fell in line, three on either side of the top of the staircase, and the Redguard joined them as they continued to the front, where they turned back to the Blades.

“Blades!” Jauffre shouted, his voice loud enough to reach the Blades at the ends of the rows. “Dark times are upon us. The Emperor and his sons were slain on our watch. The Empire is in chaos. But there is yet hope. Here is Martin Septim, true son of Uriel Septim!”

The Blades unsheathed their katanas and chanted in unison. “Hail, Dragonborn! Hail Martin Septim! Hail!”

Jauffre turned to Martin. “Your Highness. The Blades are at your command. You will be safe here until you can take up your throne.”

He smiled at the old Blade gratefully, then turned to the Blades to speak. “Jauffre. Craenari. All of you. I know you all expect me to be Emperor. I’ll do my best. But this is all new to me. I’m not used to giving speeches. But I wanted you to know that I appreciate your warm welcome here. I hope I prove myself worthy of your loyalty in the coming days. That’s it. Thank you.”

“Well, then,” Jauffre said. “Thank you, Martin. We’d all best get back to our duties, eh, Captain?”

One of the Blades nodded, and led out a command. The rest of the Blades started going back to what they were doing before the three of them arrived.

Martin let out a huff of air and looked over at Craenari. “Not much of a speech, was it? Didn’t seem to bother them, though. The Blades saluting me and hailing me as Martin Septim… I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I know I would be dead now if it weren’t for you. Thank you. But everyone suddenly expects me to know what to do. How to behave. They want an Emperor to tell them what to do. And I haven’t the faintest idea…”

“You’re asking a sixteen-year-old for advice?” she asked, a grin on her face.

Martin smiled back. “I’m asking a friend.”

“Well, we need to get the Amulet back.”

He nodded. “Of course. The Amulet of Kings. So we… I… can take it to the Temple of the One and light the Dragonfires. And stop the Oblivion invasion.”

“And you will be the Emperor,” she said.

“The Emperor…” he shook his head, like he was clearing it, “that’s an idea that will take some getting used to. In any case, we need the Amulet first. Maybe Jauffre will know where to start.”

They turned to see that Jauffre wasn’t where he was standing, but in fact talking to a Blade, the same one that had barked out orders, probably about the security measures that were in place.

“The Emperor told me that the Amulet was powerful,” she said, though as she said it, she remembered that it was actually Baurus that had told her that. “That only the Emperors knew what the rituals of coronation mean.”

She wasn’t expecting him to say something, but after a minute he spoke, still looking at where Jauffre stood. “All practitioners of daedric magic are familiar with the almost impenetrable barrier between our world and Oblivion. What the Emperor told you implies that the Amulet is the key to the preservations of that barrier. What I saw at Kvatch… everything I know about daedric magic says that such stable portals are impossible. Yet those gates to Oblivion existed.” He looked over at her. “The old rules no longer apply. Kvatch is only the beginning of what Mehrunes Dagon will do. If the Amulet is truly the key to restoring the barriers between our world and Oblivion, you must waste no time in retrieving it.”

She blinked at him. “How do you know about daedric magic? I thought you were a priest of Akatosh?”

He sighed, looking at the ground. “I haven’t always been a priest. In my youth, I followed a different path. I know more than I want about the seductive power of daedric magic. Let’s just leave it at that.”

The Blade walked away from Jauffre, and the Blades Grandmaster walked over to where Martin and Craenari were standing. He looked at the latter, with what looked like pride in his eyes.

“You have proven yourself a loyal servant of the Empire, as worthy as any of the Blades to stand by Martin’s side during this crisis. As the Grandmaster of the Blades, I would be honoured to accept you into our order. Will you join us.”

She blinked at him in surprise. All she had done was close an Oblivion Gate—which, looking back at, was pretty brave—and hardly trained. The Blades were a lot more equipped than she was.

She looked at Martin, who looked just as surprised. He glanced down at her, and he nodded his encouragement, despite the glum topic they were just speaking about.

She looked back at Jauffre. “Okay. Yeah, I’ll join.”

A smile spread across Jauffre’s face. “It is my honour to welcome you into our ranks as a Knight Brother of the Blades. This fortress is well-supplied with arms and armour. Use what you need from the armoury in the east wing. I will get Ferrum to show you around.”

“About that,” she said. “We need to find the Amulet of Kings, and fast.”

He nodded. “You’re right. We must try to recover the Amulet before the enemy takes it out of our reach. You should go back to the Imperial City. Baurus may have learned something about the assassins. You’ll find him at the Luther Broad’s Boarding House in the Elven Gardens District of the Imperial City. Have a good night’s rest, and leave in the morning. I’ll get Ferrum to come find you.”

She nodded. “Yessir.”

She’d never called someone ‘sir’ before, not even the Imperial City guards.

He left them, and an Imperial woman came up to them. She beat her fist against her chestplate in hail.

“Your highness, I have been tasked with showing you around the fortress. If you would please follow me.”

Martin nodded. “Of course. What’s your name?”

She blinked in surprise, before answering. “Jena, Your Highness.”

“It’s nice to meet you. Lead the way.”

She nodded curtly, and started towards the door behind them. Martin followed, and Craenari was left alone.

Not for long, though, because she was approached by an Imperial man, about mid-twenties. “I’m guessing you’re Craenari.”

She nodded. “You must be Ferrum.”

“I am. Come, I’ll show you around.”


	9. Back to the Imperial City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Although it had only been just over a week since Craenari had been in the Imperial City, it felt like it had been a lot longer.

Stabling Prior Maborel’s horse—which, she guessed, was now hers, seeing as how the Prior was dead—at the Chestnut Handy Stables, she didn’t go to the Waterfront District like she thought she would the next time she was in the city; instead, she went to the Elven Gardens District, and searched for Luther Broad’s Boarding House. It looked much like everything else in the Imperial City, the only thing recognising it as an inn being the sign outside the door.

She closed the door behind her, and she saw Baurus sitting at the counter, eating a loaf of bread, in everyday clothes, not in his Blades armour like she thought he would be. She herself was in her new armour, which she picked up while Ferrum was showing her around, as well as the katana that now rested on her hip instead of her steel sword.

She made her way over to him. She opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it.

“Sit down. Don’t say anything. Just do what I say.”

Confused, she did as he said. The barkeep, whom she assumed was Luther Broad, glanced over at her, but didn’t go over to her.

“Listen,” Baurus said into a mug of mead. “I’m going to get up in a minute and walk out of here. That guy in the corner behind me will follow me. You follow him.”

“I’m ready when you are,” she muttered, staring at the alcohol in the wine rack behind where Luther Broad was standing, like she was contemplating what she wanted to drink.

The Redguard nodded minutely. “Good. Remember, wait for him to follow me. I want to see what he’ll do.”

He tipped his head back and finished the rest of his mead and slammed the mug onto the counter. Then he stood up, scraping the stool back, and headed towards the door that lead into the basement of the Boarding House.

Craenari raised an eyebrow as the door closed behind him. She had expected him to leave the building, not trap himself in with whoever was following him.

Just like Baurus had said, the man in the corner stood up, dropping the latest edition of the Black Horse Courier onto the table he was sitting at, and followed him through the basement door.

When the door closed, Craenari stood up and followed him.

The basement looked like any other basement in the Imperial City, but that wasn’t surprising. The staircase turned twice, and when she poked her head around the second corner, she saw the man cast a spell, encasing him in the armour of the assassins that killed the Emperor.

Not thinking, she unsheathed her katana at the same time as Baurus, and charged at the man. He was cut down quickly, with two members of the Blades attacking him.

“Search his body,” Baurus said, wiping the blood off his sword with a piece of cloth he found on a crate before sheathing it. “I’ll keep an eye out, in case any of his friends are nearby.”

She nodded, and the Redguard ascended the stairs. She heard the door to the basement open and close, and she bent over the body, looking for anything that would warrant him trying to kill Baurus—besides being a member of the Blades, of course.

Inside the pack on his side was a book, thick and heavy, and she wondered how the man had been able to carry it without being weighed down. She also pocketed some gold before she stood up and left the basement, the book in her hands.

She saw Baurus sitting where he had been before, another mug of mead in his hand, a fresh plate of bread in front of him. He nodded as she sat down next him, placing the book between them.

He glanced at it, placing his mug on the counter. “Good work. I’m glad to see you, by the way. You just caught me at a bad time. And I see you joined the Blades.”

She smiled at him. “A lot has happened since we parted ways beneath the Prison.”

He nodded. “I can tell. They’re calling you the Hero of Kvatch, so I can only guess what you did to warrant that title.”

“Jauffre wants to know what you’ve learned about the assassins.”

“The assassins who killed the Emperor were part of a daedric cult known as the Mythic Dawn,” he said. “Apparently worship the Daedric Lord Mehrunes Dagon. I’ve been tracking their agents in the Imperial City. I guess they noticed.”

“They have the Amulet of Kings,” she said.

He balked. “What? They took it from Jauffre? Things are worse than I thought.”

“But we found the heir,” she said hopefully. “His name is Martin.”

He let out a thankful laugh. “Thank Talos he lives! Martin Septim, you say… We will restore him to the throne! It is the sworn duty of the Blades, which you are now apart of.”

“What’s our next move?”

He took a swig of mead. “There’s a scholar at the Arcane University. Tar-Meena’s her name. Supposed to be an expert on daedric cults. Why don’t you take that book to her, see what she makes of it. I’ll keep running down leads on the Mythic Dawn network. If you learn anything, you can find me here. May Talos guide you.”

She thanked him and stood up.

“I hope you learn something from Tar-Meena about that book,” he said. “This might just be the break we need.”

She nodded, and left the Luther Broad’s Boarding House. She headed towards the Arcane University, on the other side of city—technically outside the city, as it was on a seperate piece of land from the main part of the city, like the Prisons and the Waterfront—cutting through the Palace District to get to the Arboretum.

Only, halfway through the Palace District, she was stopped by Kal-Jereen, Liodeius by her feet, the two of them out for a walk.

“Craenari?” the Argonian asked. “What are you doing here? Why are you wearing that?”

Craenari stared at her friend, blinking, not expecting to see her there. “Oh, hey, Kal-Jereen. Fancy seeing you here.”

“What’s going on?”

The Imperial sighed, her eyes moving to her two-year-old brother before going back to her scaly friend. “Have you heard about the Hero of Kvatch?”

Kal-Jereen nodded. “Of course. She closed the Oblivion Gate outside of Kvatch. She saved everyone still alive. Why?”

“It’s kind of a long story, but she is me,” Craenari said. “I’m the Hero of Kvatch. And now I’m a Blade, and friends with Emperor Uriel Septim’s son.”

The Argonian blinked, surprised, while Liodeius cocked his head to the side.

“We have time to hear it,” she said.

“I don’t have time to tell it,” Craenari said. “I’m sorry, but I need to go to the Arcane University. When I have time, and I might not, I’ll come find you, and I’ll tell you.”

She didn’t give Kal-Jereen enough time to respond. Instead, she hurried passed the duo, and continued on to to Arboretum District, and onto the Arcane University.

From the name, she guessed that Tar-Meena was an Argonian. They were the only ones that had hyphenated names, from what she knew.

When Craenari entered the tower in the centre of the District, she couldn’t see an Argonian anywhere. She went to the nearest person, an Altmer woman in a blue dress, and asked where Tar-Meena was. The Altmer said that she would go and get her, and then disappeared through one of the doors leading out.

When she came back, there was an Argonian woman following her, with red scales and earrings hanging from the horns on the sides of her temples, and she smiled at Craenari while the Altmer disappeared.

“Ah. You must be the one I got the message about. How can I help you?”

Craenari wasn’t sure how she got a message so quickly, but the couriers in Cyrodiil worked freakishly fast.

She nodded. “Yes, I was wondering what you could tell me about the Mythic Dawn?”

Tar-Meena blinked in surprise. “You know of them? One of the most secretive of all the daedric cults. Not much is known about them. They follow the teachings of Mankar Camoran, who they call the Master. A shadowy figure in his own right.”

Craenari held up the book she found on the assassin’s body. “I found one of their books.”

She nodded. “Ah yes. “Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes,” wonderful! You have a scholarly interest in daedric cults, yes?”

“I need to find the Mythic Dawn.”

“Find them, eh?” Tar-Meena shook her head, and waved a hand. “I won’t poke my nose any further. Official business and all that. I’m used to working with the Blades, don’t worry. Say no more. In any case, finding them won’t be easy. I’ve studied Mankar Camoran’s writings a bit myself, at least those that I could find. It is clear from the text that Mankar Camoran’s “Commentaries” come in four volumes, but I’ve only ever seen the first two books. I believe that his writings contain hidden clues to the location of the Mythic Dawn’s secret shrine to Mehrunes Dagon. Those who unlock this hidden path have proven themselves worthy to join the ranks of the Mythic Dawn cult. Finding the shrine is the first test. If you want to find them, you’ll need all four volumes of the “Commentaries.””

“Where can I find these books?”

Tar-Meena pulled a book out from inside her robes, thick and bound in purple leather, just like the one Craenari was carrying, and handed it to the Imperial. “Here, you can have the library’s copy of Volume 2.”

Craenari blinked at it as she took it, resting it above the first one. “And you just carry that around with you?”

“Yes, I am very fascinated with it,” she said. “So treat it gently, if you please! I’d like it back after you sort all of this out.”

“I’ll give you the others, as well,” the Imperial said. “I won’t have use of them.”

The Argonian smiled wide, though it looked more like a grimace with the rows of sharp teeth in her mouth. “I would appreciate that, thank you. As I said, I’ve never seen the third and fourth volumes. You should try First Edition, over in the Marker District. Phintias, the proprietor, caters to special collectors. He may have an idea of where to locate those books.”

“Thank you so much for your help,” Craenari said.

“It was nice chatting with you. Be sure to let me know how your hunt for the Mythic Dawn turns out.”

“I will. Thank you again.”

With the two books in her arms, she left the tower and the Arcane University, heading towards the Market District. She shoved the books into her sack, the idea of selling the trinkets on her sitting at the back of her mind. 

The First Edition was an an unassuming building, much like everything else. When she entered, the Redguard behind the counter greeted her.

“I’m Phintias, owner and proprietor of the First Edition,” he said as she approached the counter. “Look around. If I don’t have it, maybe I can get it.”

“I’m looking for the Mysterium Xarxes books,” she said.

He nodded. “You must be referring to Mankar Camoran’s “Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes.” A common mistake. It comes in four volumes. The first two are rare, but you may run across them from time to time. The third and fourth are impossible to find.”

“I need volumes three and four.”

“I happen to have a copy of Volume Three on hand, but I’m afraid it is a… special order,” he said. “Already paid for by another customer. Sorry. Gwinas would be terribly disappointed if it was gone when he came to pick it up. So sorry I can’t help you.”

Craenari deflated. “Who’s Gwinas?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know him personally. But he was very eager to get his hands on Volume Three of Camoran’s “Commentaries.” Came all the way from Valenwood! As a matter of fact, he’s already late for his appointment to pick up the book. Feel free to wait around for him if you want to speak to him yourself.”

She thanked him, and sat down in a chair in the corner of the room, where she waited for Gwinas—who was probably a Bosmer, considering the name and where he was from—to come and collect it. She didn’t have to wait long before a short, grubby Wood Elf came through the door, bursting at the seams with excitement.

He went up to the counter. “I’m here for my book. Mankar Camoran’s “Commentaries,” Volume Three.”

“Ah, of course.” Phintias pulled a thick leather-bound book from under the shelf and handed it to him. “Here you go. Keep us in mind for any future needs!”

“Thank you, thank you!” Gwinas squealed, almost jumping up and down in his spot. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve been looking for this book!”

He thanked Phintias again, and left the store. Craenari followed him.

She caught up to him as he reached the door leading to the Palace District, probably on his way out of the city. She called his name, making him stop and turn around.

“Who are you?” he asked, cradling the book to his chest protectively. “What do you want?”

“That’s a valuable book,” she said, though she didn’t know why she did.

He got angry. “Have you been following me? Leave me alone! This book is mine!”

“I want to buy it from you.”

“It isn’t for sale,” he spat at her. “You’ll have to find a copy somewhere else.”

She shook her head and pointed at the book he held defensively to his chest. “No. I need your copy.”

“I won’t be bullied!” he yelled, gaining the attention of the nearby guards. Though, when they saw the armour Craenari was wearing, they stayed back. “I’m not some pathetic book-worm you can just push around! I have friends, you know!”

“Friends… in the Mythic Dawn?” she asked, lowering her finger and raising an eyebrow.

He got defensive extremely quickly. “I never said anything about the Mythic Dawn. In fact, I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

He grumbled. “Very well. I can see you’re familiar with Mankar Camoran’s “Commentaries.” I know that daedric cults are not quite the thing socially, but that’s just foolish prejudice and superstition. For the adventurous, open-minded thinker, daedric worship holds many rewards.”

“You’re in way over your head,” she said.

He scoffed at her. “I beg your pardon? You presume to tell _me_ about daedric cults? I’ll have you know that I’ve visited the Shrine of Sheogorath during the Festival of the Mad! I’ve spoken with Hermaeus Mora beneath the full moons! I’ve—”

“They killed the Emperor, you fool!” she interrupted, already fed up with his rambling.

He stopped talking and went pale. “ _What?!_ The Mythic Dawn were the ones…? You have to believe me! I truly had no idea! I mean, I knew they were a daedric cult. Mankar Camoran’s views on Mehrunes Dagon are fascinating, revolutionary even… But to murder the Emperor… Mara preserve us!”

_That was easy_ , she thought, and held her hand out. “You’d better give me that book.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. Of course! I don’t want anyone to think I had anything to do with their insane plots! Here.” He shoved the book at her, no longer wanting it near him. “Volume Three is yours. What you do with it is your business.”

She took the book, and shoved it in her pack with the rest, which was starting to get heavy. “I need the fourth book as well.”

“You can only get Volume Four directly from a member of the Mythic Dawn,” he said helpfully. “I had set up a meeting with the Sponsor, as he called himself.” He dug into his robes and pulled out a piece of parchment, handing it to her. “Here, take this note they gave me. It tells you where to go. I don’t want anything else to do with the Mythic Dawn.”

He turned on his heel and continued into the Palace District.

The guards stationed outside the doors looked at her with confusion.

“What was that about?” one asked her.

“Official Blades business,” she said, and went to turn away.

But the second guard called for her. “Hey, weren’t you the one that killed her mother?”

She stiffened. “Whatever happened before last week has been stricken from my records,” she said, though she wasn’t sure if they were. “Don’t bring it up again.”

Then she booked it out of there, heading to the Elven Gardens District, and Luther Broad’s Boarding House.


	10. The Mythic Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and reviewing.

“You’re not easy to get a hold of,” Baurus said as Craenari sat down next to him. “What have you found out?”

“There’s a meeting that has been set up with the Mythic Dawn, set up by someone that wanted to join,” she told him, handing him the note Gwinas had given her earlier. “That is, until he learned they were responsible for the Emperor’s murder.”

“This might just be the break we’ve been looking for!” the Redguard exclaimed happily. “We need to get that fourth book, then. If Tar-Meena is right, we can use these books to locate the Mythic Dawn’s hidden shrine. Let’s go. I know that part of the sewers well.”

He stood up and started to leave the Boarding House, and Craenari followed. On the way to the sewers—wherever the entrance was—she asked him, “How did you know there were four books?”

“Tar-Meena sent me a letter after you left,” he said.

She nodded.

They got to a well in the Elven Gardens District, with a grate next to it. Baurus bent down and pulled it off the hole it sat in, and swung his legs over the side, and started to climb down. Craenari climbed down after him, closing the grate above her.

Baurus led the way through the labyrinth that was the sewers while Craenari cringed at being back down there. She didn’t think she would go back to the sewers after escaping the Prisons, but there she was, following Baurus like she had before.

She didn’t know how long they were down there before the Redguard stopped in front of a door and turned around to talk to her.

“Alright. The room with the table is just through this door. I always wondered who put it there. I happen to know that if you go up the stairs there,” he said, nodding at where the set of stairs behind him was, “you get a vantage point on the meeting room. I think I’d better be the one to handle the meeting. You’ll be my backup. Keep watch from above in case of trouble.”

She shook her head. “I’ll meet the Sponsor.”

“No, it should be me,” he said. “I have a blood debt to repay these Mythic Dawn assassins. Besides, I’ve trained for this my whole life, and I doubt they’d let a child into the fold, no matter who they are.”

“Fine,” she said. “And I’m not a child.”

He grinned at her, and messed up her hair with his hand. “You keep telling yourself that, kid. Remember, we must not leave here without the book. It’s our best chance of finding the Amulet.”

She nodded, fixing her short hair. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Listen,” he said, the grin falling from his face and a sad tone lacing his voice, “I may not survive this. But if I don’t, you must. You must recover the book and find the Amulet of Kings.”

“You’re not going to die,” she said.

A sliver of a smile appeared on his face. “I’m happy for your naivety, kid, but it’s the truth of life. People die.”

“I’m not naive,” she said. “You don’t even know why I was in the Prisons in the first place. None of you asked me.”

“I may not have known then, but I asked around. You killed your mother, though from what I heard of her, she deserved it. Don’t worry—I don’t hold it against you. But, just in case I do die, you need to promise me that you will survive.”

“Fine. I promise. But it won’t happen.”

He smiled again. “That’s a good girl. Now, go up those stairs. There’s a book we need to get.”

Craenari went up the stairs as Baurus opened the door, and by the time she got onto the bridge, he was already sitting down on a chair tucked underneath a small wooden table.

It wasn’t long until a High Elf in red robes came through another door, and stopped in front of the table, a thick purple book in his hands.

“So,” he said. “You want to become one of the chosen of Mehrunes Dagon. The Path of Dawn is difficult. But the rewards are great.”

On the other side of the bridge, where Craenari was hiding, two men in Mythic Dawn robes were moving towards the gate. She widened her eyes and started to panic as the Altmer continued to speak.

“I have the book you seek. With it and the Master’s three other books, you will possess the key to enlightenment. But do you have the wit and the strength to use the key you have been given?”

The Mythic Dawn assassins opened the gate and started to walk over the bridge, only to yell when they saw Craenari hiding there. Down below her, the Altmer snatched back the book he had been extending to Baurus, before throwing it on the ground and casting the spell that gave him his armour and weapons.

Craenari unsheathed her katana as the two assassins charged at her, maces raised to attack. She slashed at the closest one, but he took a step back and the blade hit air. The second one swung his mace at her head, but she dodged to the left and cut his arm. The first assassin swung at her, and she dodged again.

Adrenaline pumped through her veins, an almost lethal dose, and her body took over.

Letting out a war cry, she charged at the first assassin and attacked him with all her might, dodging the second one’s attacks as she did so. Somehow, the second assassin had gotten behind her, so now she was defending on two fronts.

Her body had failed her. Dammit, body.

She got an idea, and she narrowed her eyes slightly, trying to find a way to set it up. She ducked another attack, then swung her katana into his knee. He cried out in pain, and dropped to his knees. Using her momentum, she planted her hands onto the cold stone floor and swung her legs around, and her foot connected with the bottom of the assassin’s jaw.

He bent backwards, shards of teeth flying everywhere. She swung her legs again, and she tripped the second assassin. She planted her feet and pushed herself up, grabbing the katana that was next to her hands, and stabbed him in the chest. Then she turned, cutting off the head of the other assassin as blood trickled down his chin.

Down below, Baurus holding his own against the Altmer, though she could tell that he was running out of energy. This assassin was holding a sword, unlike the maces of every other Mythic Dawn agent Craenari had seen, and she had to do something, quick.

She sheathed her katana and pulled her bow off her shoulder. She nocked an arrow and pulled back on the drawstring, aiming at the assassin’s chest. She let go of it, and the arrow flew true, piercing his chest.

Baurus looked up at her, panting, as the Altmer fell to the ground, dead, and held up a thumb.

Throwing the bow back over her shoulder and securing it around her neck, she climbed down the stairs that hugged the walls and walked over to Baurus.

“That could have gone smoother,” he said. “Pick up the book and let’s get out of here. Don’t want any more of them showing up.”

She nodded, and went over to where the Altmer had thrown down the book. The pool of blood that originated from the Mythic Dawn assassin’s body was slowly seeping towards it, but she picked it up before it could touch it.

On the way out of the sewers, Baurus had remarked that she was bleeding, and she raised her hand up and felt the blood that ran down the side of her face, originating from a cut on her forehead, above her right eye. She brushed him off, the adrenaline that still flowed through her veins stopping her from feeling the pain.

When they climbed out of the sewers, the Redguard spoke again. “Now that you have all four books, you should be able to handle things from here. I’m going to Cloud Ruler Temple. My place is at Martin’s side.”

She nodded. “Good luck on your journey.”

The two went in different directions—despite the fact that the sun had been replaced by the two moons, Masser and Secunda, Baurus had wanted to leave immediately, and would probably travel the entire night, and Craenari headed towards the Arcane University.

Despite it being late, Tar-Meena was waiting for her in the tower, reading over the first Volume of Mankar Camoran’s “Commentaries.” She looked up as she entered, her pack burdened by the four thick books, and rushed over to her. 

“I have the books,” the Imperial said, pulling them out of her pack and placing them in the outstretched arms of the Argonian in front of her.

“Excellent!” Tar-Meena crooned. “To find the Mythic Dawn’s secret shrine to Mehrunes Dagon, I’ll need to study these four volumes. It is a fairly common practice of these kinds of esoteric cults to put hidden messages within their sacred writings. In effect, simply by finding their way to the shrine, prospective members have already passed the first test on the road to “enlightenment.” You’ve piqued my curiosity about this puzzle, and will be glad to sort through it myself, though I can dig up a copy of the first two volumes to help me. Check back with me tomorrow night after I’ve sorted through them.”

Craenari nodded, and turned on her heel and left the Arcane University.

She headed towards the Waterfront District, too tired to order a room from an inn, but not too tired for the walk there. The cold air would do her good, too, after being in the sewers for most of the afternoon.

She yawned as she passed the Bloated Float Inn, and the short trek to her house seemed a lot longer than the walk to the Waterfront. She fumbled with her key while unlocking the door of her shack, not sure if Kal-Jereen was in there with her brother or if they had continued staying at the shack the four Argonians shared.

She opened the door and closed it behind her, locking it. A quick sweep told her that they weren’t in there, and she blearily unclasped the buckles that kept the Blades armour on her, and she piled it into a corner before digging through her cupboard for a nightgown to wear. She took off her sword and pack and dropped them next to the armour before tugging on the nightgown she found, then flopped down onto her bed. The cut on her face had already stopped bleeding, but she was too tired to clean the blood off in the lake just outside her house, and she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

In the morning, she was woken up by a small hand on her face. She blinked herself awake, and after a few seconds realised it was her brother, Liodeius. Kal-Jereen was sitting at the table, steaming bowls of oatmeal in front of her, and Craenari slowly sat up, still tired from the day before.

“Good morning,” the Argonian said. “Sleep well?”

She nodded, still tired, and ran a hand through her hair. It was knotty, but that was to be expected. She had slept on her face the entire night.

“There’s blood on your face.”

“’t’s okay,” Craenari mumbled. “I’s closed.” She yawned and stretched.

Kal-Jereen shoved a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth as Liodeius climbed back onto his chair, and began to eat.

“You didn’t talk to us yesterday,” Kal-Jereen said, “and you stink.”

“I was in the sewers all afternoon,” she said, pushing herself to her feet.

The Argonian blinked, surprised. “Why?”

“Official Blades business,” she said. “I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed to say.”

Kal-Jereen nodded, though she wasn’t happy with it. “Go bathe in the lake, and then you can have breakfast. And be quick—it’s going to go cold. Then you’re going to tell me what you’ve been doing this passed week.”

Craenari nodded, and left the shack.

An hour later, as she was finishing her bowl of oatmeal, Kal-Jereen was blinking at her in amazement as Liodeius played with his doll.

“Wow,” the Argonian muttered. “You did all that?”

She nodded. “Yup. I would say to go to Baurus if you didn’t believe me, but he left for Bruma last night. I guess you could talk to Tar-Meena.”

“I believe you,” the Argonian said, “no matter how unlikely it sounds. You show the damage on your face.”

The Imperial hummed, reaching up and picking at the scab above her eye.

“If you keep picking at it, it’s going to scar.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” she said, poking her tongue out. “A cool scar to show my achievements.”

“With one that small, all anyone will think is that you hit your head against something.”

She stuck her tongue out at the Argonian again.

“So what are you going to do while you wait?”

She shrugged, pushing her empty bowl forward. “Dunno. Maybe I could wander around the city, helping people. I mean, the Blades help people.”

“The Blades help the Emperor.”

“Well there’s no Emperor, is there?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “The Emperor-to-be can’t become Emperor without the Amulet of Kings, and that’s gone, so until then, what am I supposed to do? Sit around until Akatosh gives him another Amulet? I doubt that’s going to happen.”

Kal-Jereen snickered. “Well, whatever you do, make sure it doesn’t take longer than a day.”


	11. Lake Arrius Caverns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and reviewing.

All day, Craenari had done nothing.

She had tried looking around for people to help, but everyone had swarmed her as she walked around. By that time, not only had the accomplishments of the Hero of Kvatch been spread through the city, but so had her name. Everyone that knew she had killed her mother despised her. Everyone else adored her.

She couldn’t get through the city properly, so she had made up home in the Arboretum District, once she had been able to shake her fans off.

She hadn’t closed the Oblivion Gate for fame. She had done it to get Martin. Fame had nothing to do with it.

A lot of them questioned her age, others remarked on the armour she wore. And a few of them had confessed their love for her, though she knew it was only fake.

That night, as the sun set, she picked herself up from the shrubbery she had sat in to read silently and headed over the bridge into the Arcane University.

When she arrived, Tar-Meena was waiting for her with a stack of books next to where she sat. The Argonian looked up, closing the book she had been reading—Volume Four, if Craenari was correct—and picking up two books from the pile next to her.

She handed them to the Imperial. “I turned up copies of the first two volumes from my colleagues. Have a read of them if you want. Mankar Camoran certainly is a fascinating writer. Undoubtedly insane, but fascinating. Ah, but more to the point, it appears to me that the first words of each paragraph may be significant. A message may be hidden there. I’ll continue to study the problem. Come by tomorrow if you want. I may think of something else.”

“Do you mind if I stay with you tomorrow?” Craenari asked. “It’s just that people won’t leave me alone, and I really need this solved.”

“Of course you can!” she said. “Then I won’t have to send out a message and wait for you when I find it.”

She had gone back to the Waterfront then, the streets clear, and went to sleep. In the morning, she had gone back to the Arcane University, and studied the books with Tar-Meena, trying to find anything that would help.

Just before midday, the Argonian let out a happy cry.

Craenari looked up. “What is it?"

“I think I may have figured out the hidden message!” Tar-Meena said. “Give me the book!”

Craenari handed over the book she had been searching, which happened to be Volume Three, and the Argonian snatched up a quill she had been using to write and scribbled down on a near piece of parchment.

“Yes! The first letter of each paragraph spells out a message. Look: “Green Emperor Way Where Tower Touches Midday Sun.” Are you familiar with Green Emperor Way? The gardens around the Imperial Palace. Something must be revealed there at noon! How exciting!”

“Thank you so much,” Craenari said, taking the piece of parchment from the Argonian’s outstretched hand. “How could I ever repay you?”

“Just save the world. Stop the invasion of Oblivion.”

She nodded, and left the Arcane University.

Looking up at the sun, she could tell it was almost midday. Swearing, she ran for the Palace District, not wanting to wait a whole day to see the message.

When she got to the Palace District, she vaulted the wall that surrounded the gardens and searched through them and the graves that dotted it. When yelled at by the guard, she proclaimed it official Blades business, but they continued to yell at her.

It was when she was turning to the guard to yell back at him when she saw it. On a gravestone, though she didn’t know who it belonged to, she saw carvings on the side of it light up red. She ignored the guard and went over to it, pulling the map Baurus had given her beneath the Imperial City Prisons out of her pack and held it up to the carvings. Above Cheydinhal, on Lake Arrius, was a red dot. She put it on the map and climbed out of the gardens, poking her tongue at the guard that had continued to yell at her, before turning on her heel and heading towards the stables outside of the city.

It was going to be a long ride.

* * *

It was Craenari’s first time in Cheydinhal, and she wasn’t even entering the city. Instead, she took a sharp left at the stables and rode through the countryside, going north until she reached a lake. According to her map, there were no lakes between Cheydinhal and Lake Arrius, so she would stop at the first lake she got to.

And that’s what she did. Of course, she wasn’t wearing her Blades armour—as soon as they saw it, they would kill her. No, instead she was wearing her leather armour that she had gotten before she became a Blade.

She dismounted her horse—she seriously needed a name for him—and approached the cave that sat above the water’s edge.

The inside was what she expected all caves to look like, as it was the first cave she had ever been in. It sloped into the ground, and she followed it, slipping a couple times on wet stones.

Around the first corner stood a man in the red Mythic Dawn robes, and her heart started beating in her chest, expecting him to attack her. Grasping the handle of her steel sword—she had left her katana behind, as well—she approached him.

He looked at her. “Dawn is breaking.”

“Greet the new day,” she said, repeating what she had seen in the “Commentaries” books.

“Welcome, sister,” he said. “The hour is late, but the Master still has need for willing hands. You may pass into the shrine. Harrow will take you to the Master for your initiation into the service of Lord Dagon. Do not tarry. The time of Preparation is almost over. The time of Cleansing is near.”

He took a key that hung on a piece of string around his neck and unlocked the door that was next to him, then held it open for her to pass through. She went down the passage and turned a corner, where a Dunmer, whom she assumed was Harrow, was waiting.

He approached her. “I am Harrow, Warden of the Shrine of Dagon. By following the Path of Dawn hidden in the writings of the Master, Mankar Camoran, you have earned a place among the Chosen. You have arrived at an opportune time. You may have the honour to be initiated into the Order by the Master himself. As a member of the Order of the Mythic Dawn, everything you need will be provided for you from the Master’s bounty. Give me your possessions, and put on these initiate’s robes.”

He picked up a set of robes from a nearby table and handed them to her.  


She blinked. “Is there somewhere I can change?”

“We have nothing to hide from each other. You will change here, in front of me.”

Her eyes widened, but she nodded. She placed the robes back on the table and unhooked her pack and sword from her waist, handing them to the Dunmer. She gave him her bow and quiver of arrows, as well, and then started undoing the leather buckles, anxiety pooling in the pit of her stomach.

She watched as Harrow put her items in a nearby chest, and quickly pulled her books, pants and cuirass off while he was distracted. But she caught him staring at her just before she pulled the robes over her head, wanting herself covered. She pulled on the shoes that came with the robes, and pulled the hood down over her head, so her eyes were covered and only the dips of her short brown hair were visible.

Harrow put her armour in the chest, as well, and locked it with a key that hung around his neck.

“Very good,” he said. “Follow me. I will take you to the Shrine.”

He led her through the cave, until they got to a chamber with a stone platform in the middle. He led her down the stairs leading to the platform, and she saw a statue of Mehrunes Dagon towering over them, an Argonian man tied to a stone table at its base. He looked to be unconscious.

“The Dragon Throne is empty, and we hold the Amulet of Kings!” an Altmer was saying, dressed in blue robes instead of the red everyone else was wearing. He must’ve been Mankar Camoran. “Praise be to your Brothers and Sisters! Great shall be their reward in Paradise!”

“Praise be!” the initiates around Craenari said, including Harrow next to her.

“Hear now the words of Lord Dagon. “When I walk the earth again, the Faithful among you shall receive your reward: to be set above all other Mortals forever.” “As for the rest: the weak shall be winnowed; the timid shall be cast down; the mighty shall tremble at my feet and pray for pardon.””

“So sayeth Lord Dagon. Praise be!”

“You reward, Brothers and Sisters! The time of Cleansing draws nigh! I go now to Paradise. I shall return with Lord Dagon at the coming of the Dawn!”

Camoran turned around from the altar he stood at, and in front of him a large orange portal opened up. He stepped through it, and it closed behind him.

Taking the Amulet of Kings with him.

She swore internally, not wanting to blow her cover yet. Now that the Amulet of Kings was no longer on Nirn, she needed a way to open the portal to Paradise, and the Mysterium Xarxes was her best bet. If only she knew where it was…

“We have a new Sister who wishes to bind herself to the service of Lord Dagon,” Harrow shouted over the crowd, a hand on her shoulder.

The woman that had been standing next to Camoran on the platform spoke. “Advance, initiate!”

The hand left Craenari’s shoulder, and she started towards the steps leading to the altar. The Altmer put a hand on the small of her back, and led her to the alter.

Resting on it was a silver dagger, and the Mysterium Xarxes.

“You have come to dedicate yourself to Lord Dagon’s service. This pact must be sealed with red-drink, the blood of Lord Dagon’s enemies.” She waved her hand over the dagger. “Take up the dagger and offer Lord Dagon the sacrificial red-drink as a pledge of your own life’s blood, which shall be his in the end.”

Eying the Mysterium Xarxes and its pale cover, she picked up the dagger with delicate fingers and turned to where the Argonian laid unconscious on the stone table. She approached him, hand gripping the dyed-leather handle of the blade, and looked over her shoulder at the Altmer. She looked a lot like Camoran had.

A decision in her mind, she raised the dagger.

And turned around and threw it at the woman.

It pierced her in the chest, and the initiates cried out in outrage. Hurrying, and panic in her bones, Craenari ran at the alter and picked up the Mysterium Xarxes from where it lay on the alter. Then she ran for the stairs, but something grabbed her ankle and caused her to tumble, the book escaping her grasp.

She looked up and saw the woman gripping her ankle, blood leaking out of the side of her mouth, and muttered, “Traitor,” before her grip went slack, and she died.

Craenari picked up the Mysterium Xarxes and scrambled to her feet, the initiates having gotten over their initial shock, and ran for the stairs that would lead to the entrance of the cave. She could get all her belongings that way, too.

The initiates chased after her, some of them hurling spells at her, but she managed to dodge all of them, and trap them behind a wooden door. She knew it wouldn’t last long, but it gave her enough time to get a head start.

After a couple turns in the cave, she found herself in the room where Harrow had told her to strip. She grabbed the chest, knowing it was fruitless to try and open it there, and ran with it through the door the Doorkeeper had let her through, and out of the cave.

She jumped on top of her horse and spurred it into a run, and he galloped away from the cave and towards Cheydinhal as fast as he could, until she was sure that they weren’t following her anymore.

She pulled her hood down and looked at the chest. She wouldn’t be able to pick it, because all of her lockpicks were inside of it, so that was out of the question. She might be able to find a locksmith in Cheydinhal that would be able to open it, but she wasn’t sure if there were any outside of the Imperial City. They weren’t exactly common.

Out of ideas with the chest, she turned her attention to the Mysterium Xarxes. Its cover was pale, with the Daedric symbol for Oblivion on the front—she had learnt the language from her mother, because Salfre held the belief that her daughter would stop her worship of the Divines and turn her attention to the Daedric Princes.

She opened to the first page. There was a circle in the middle with text around it, and the second page was a triangle. She could see what Camoran had read out, as well as a few that he hadn’t.

“Of bold Oblivion fire who finds you for Lord Dagon forever reborn in blood and fire from the waters of Oblivion,” she muttered out loud.

She closed the book. That was enough of that for now.

By the time her horse got her to the gates of Cheydinhal, the sun was setting, but she decided to continue on to Cloud Ruler Temple, but only after she sent a message to Kal-Jereen, asking her to bring her armour and katana to the Blades fortress. If her timing was right, Kal-Jereen would get there two days after Craenari did, as she was sure the couriers in Cyrodiil didn’t use roads and instead plowed through forests and rivers and lakes to get directly to where the letters were going as fast as they could.

Which meant that the courier would swim through Lake Rumare and enter the Imperial City through the door leading to the Prisons, cutting off two days that it would have taken.

She adopted that method towards Bruma. The woman that ran the Cheydinhal stables pointed her in the right direction, and she set off that way.


	12. A Septim's Daughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and reviewing.
> 
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> 
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It took two days to get to Bruma, less than what Craenari thought, and another hour to get to Cloud Ruler Temple.

When she got there, the gates were opened for her, and she nodded at them in thanks as she climbed up the stairs, heading towards the building Martin was in.

When she entered, she had the chest cradled underneath her left arm and the Mysterium Xarxes hanging in her right hand. Martin was sitting at one of the tables in the main hall, a couple of books in front of him as he read another.

He looked up when she placed the chest on the seat across from him.

“Ah, you’re back,” he said, a smile on his face as he placed the book on the table. “I told Jauffre not to worry… I can see you have bad news. You didn’t recover the Amulet, did you?”

“I’m guessing Baurus told you about the whole Mythic Dawn thing,” she said. “No, I didn’t. I did find their Hidden Shrine, though.” She placed the Mysterium Xarxes on the table in front of him. “I found the Mysterium Xarxes.”

Martin stood up angrily, staring at her. “By the Nine! Such a thing is dangerous to even handle!”

She blinked at him in surprise as he shook his head, and the anger left him.

“Forgive me. You were right to bring it. But you’d better give it to me. I know some ways to protect myself from its evil power.”

“So do I,” she said, crossing her arms.

He blinked at her. “You do?”

She nodded. “My mother was a worshipper of Sanguine, before she died. She taught me everything she knew about Daedric magic, though she never told me about the barrier between Mundus and Oblivion.”

“How did she die?”

She raised an eyebrow. “How about you tell me how you know Daedric magic, and I’ll tell you how.”

She spotted Baurus standing at a nearby pillar, and he raised his brow at her.

“Fine. I used to worship Sanguine, back in my youth. It was a long time ago, and I like to not think about it.”

It was Craenari’s turn to be surprised. “You used to be a Sanguine worshipper?”

He nodded. “I’m ashamed of it, but I wouldn’t be who I am if it wasn’t for that. How did your mother die?”

“I killed her.”

Martin took a step back. “What?!”

“She abused my brother and I,” she said. “I couldn’t leave the Imperial City, so I did what I had to. I got enough money for my friend to take care of Liodeius, and then I killed her. How do you think I got to the Prisons, to meet your father?”

“I-I assumed you had done something light, like stolen something. I didn’t think you had _killed_ someone!”

“She was a horrible person. She deserved it.” She put her finger on the cover of the Mysterium Xarxes. “Can this thing lead us to Camoran? He fled through a portal to a place he called Paradise.”

Martin shook his head, but his tone still held some hostility to it. “I don’t know. Maybe. I suspect that the secret of how to open a portal to Camoran’s Paradise lies within these pages. But I will need time. Tampering with dark secrets, even just reading them, can be very dangerous. I’ll have to proceed carefully.”

He sat down and opened the book. Craenari went to the sleeping quarters and tried to sleep, but the conversation she had just had with Martin weighed on her. Eventually, though, exhaustion got the better of her, and she fell asleep.

* * *

Martin couldn’t concentrate on the book in front of him, and it wasn’t just because he had almost forgotten the Daedric language in his years the years since he had worshipped Sanguine.

He didn’t know why he had exploded on her. He guessed it was because he expected her to be perfect, to be not at all bad. Because he had suspicions, and what she had told her about her mother had confirmed those suspicions.

He just had to get her alone to talk to her, or at least get a bit more information on what year she was born. Because if he knew that, then his suspicion would be truth.

He picked up the books in front of him, including the Mysterium Xarxes, and moved to the study connected to his private rooms. It would be easier to get privacy there, instead of in the main hall.

He just hoped that she didn’t hate him when she found out the truth.

* * *

Craenari was woken up by daylight streaming through the windows, and she pushed herself into a sitting position in the bedroll she had been assigned. The sound of chatter filtered through the paper door that lead to the main hall, and she got to her feet and made her way into the hall, still wearing the initiates robes from the night before.

Many Blades were having breakfast, talking and laughing amongst themselves as they ate. Martin was there as well, accompanied by Jauffre, and he seemed to sense her staring at him, because he looked up from his food and over to where she stood in the doorway.

He motioned for her to come over to him and, not wanting to disobey the future Emperor’s orders, she did.

“Sit, please,” he said, and she complied.

Jauffre slid over a plate of food, which was some bread and cheese, and she smiled at him in thanks.

“I’m sorry for the argument last night,” Martin said. “I understand why you did what you did. If I had been in the same situation at your age, I would have done the same thing.”

The tension in Craenari’s shoulders disappeared, and she smiled at him, picking up the loaf of bread on her plate.

“I’d like to get to know you better,” he said. “We’ve been through so much already, and I don’t even know how old you are.”

She swallowed the bread in her mouth. “I’m sixteen. Born in four-seventeen.”

His jaw locked, and he nodded. He looked at Jauffre. “Jauffre, weren’t you just saying something about spies?”

“Ah, yes,” the Grandmaster said, and Craenari narrowed her eyes at Martin. He was definitely changing the subject, though she didn’t know why, as he had been the one to bring it up. Jauffre turned to her. “I hope you can help. The gate guard have reported seeing strangers on the road for the past several nights. I cannot leave Cloud Ruler Temple undefended while my men search the whole mountainside, but these spies much be eliminated.”

Craenari nodded. She understood his concerns. “I’ll find them.”

“Thank you. Talk to Steffan. He can tell you where he has seen them. Captain Burd in Bruma may also be able to help. I’ve asked the Countess to have the guard keep an eye out for strangers. Track down the spies and kill them. Find out what they know, and what they’re planning, if possible.”

She nodded again, finished off her bread, and stood up. Searching over the heads of the Blades, she saw Captain Steffan eating a couple tables over.

She made her way over to him and plopped down on the seat opposite him.

He looked up from his piece of cheese. “Can I help you, ma’am?”

She’d never been called ma’am before. She liked it.

“Jauffre said you spotted spies lurking around the past couple nights.

He nodded. “Yes, that’s right. We always see them near the runestone at dusk. They aren’t too woodcrafty, but Grandmaster Jauffre had forbidden us to range too far from the walls. But it seems that you have been given the freedom to attack the enemy that we all crave! We will keep the Emperor here, don’t worry.”

“Thank you,” she said, standing up.

“Stay safe.”

She went back to where Jauffre was. “They come at around dusk, so I’m going to go ask Captain Burd if he’s seen anything suspicious. Be seeing you.”

She left Cloud Ruler Temple, and took the trek to Bruma. It was only a short distance, and the fresh air cleared her head enough to think back on Martin’s strange behaviour.

It was the first time he had acted like that. He had explicitly brought up the subject, and then had changed it once she told him her age.

Was he… checking something?

She shook her head, approaching the gates of the city. Besides passing it several times, she hadn’t actually been in, so she had no idea where anything was, or what Captain Burd looked like.

She still hadn’t opened that chest with all her stuff in. Frankly, she had forgotten about it.

Oh well. She’d be able to go back to the fortress once she spoke with the Captain and get it opened. She had until dusk to do it.

When she entered Bruma, she immediately turned to the guard standing next to the entrance, and asked him where Castle Bruma was. He pointed, and she thanked him, and she marched towards the east side of town.

When she got to the castle, she found the barracks, and she knocked on the door. It was opened a minute later by a surprised looking guard.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“I’d like to speak to Captain Burd,” she said. “I’m with the Blades up at Cloud Ruler Temple.”

He nodded, and left to go get the Captain.

Captain Burd was a Nord man with dark hair and eyes, not something you would expect on a Nord, but there he was. He was also very tall, and Craenari had to crane her neck backwards to see him.

“I’m Captain Burd, commander of the Bruma Guard.”

“Hi, I’m Craenari. I’m with the Blades up at Cloud Ruler Temple,” she said.

“Yes, Johanian said as much. How can I help?”

“Have there been any suspicious people entering the city recently?” she asked. “From what Grandmaster Jauffre said, you’ve been keeping an eye out.”

“Yes, we have. But except for Jearl coming back from a trip down south, things are pretty quiet. Not much travel right now with the Oblivion Crisis. I’ve told my men to keep a sharp eye out, but I’ve had no reports of any strangers in town. What about you? Turned up anything suspicious?”

“Not yet,” she admitted, “but I did just start the investigation.”

He nodded. “Alright. Anything I can do for you, just let me know.”

* * *

“There must be a way to open this damn thing without the key,” Craenari said, trying to pry open the lid of the chest with all her stuff in it.

Next to her, Pelagius stroked his chin, despite the fact that he was clean-shaven. “Have you tried picking it?”

She looked at him like he was an idiot. “I would, but my lockpicks are _inside the chest_.”

“Leave him be,” Caroline said, patting Pelagius on the shoulder. “He might not be smart, but he’s a great swordsman.”

“Hey!” he shouted, offended.

“How about smashing in the lid?” Roliand asked.

She rolled her eyes. Of course the Nord suggested that.

“You could ask Martin to use an unlocking spell on the lock,” Baragon, who was on duty nearby but still wanted to be part of the conversation, suggested. “Don’t priests know spells like that?”

Craenari blinked at the Breton, before grinning at him. “You’re a genius!”

She picked up the chest and started for Martin’s private study, where he had taken the Mysterium Xarxes so he wouldn’t clutter the main hall. 

She nodded at Fortis, who was guarding the door to Martin’s quarters, and raised her fist to knock on the thin door when she heard talking inside.

“Are you sure?” someone that sounded like Jauffre asked.

“Positive,” Martin answered. “I just don’t know how to tell her.”

“This is interesting indeed. And very coincidental.”

“Can you help me? I don’t know what to do. I’m scared she’ll hate me.”

“How long have you known?” Jauffre asked.

“Not long. I knew she was Salfre’s daughter when I laid eyes on her, but those eyes…”

Jauffre hummed. “They are Septim eyes.”

Craenari’s eyes widened, and Fortis seemed confused. Obviously, he hadn’t been listening to what was going on inside.

They must be talking about her. Salfre was her mother’s name, and she was always saying that she got her eyes from her father, but she had refused to tell her who he was.

Was Martin…?

“You need to tell her, Martin,” Jauffre continued. “The longer you wait, the worse she’s going to react.”

“I know. I don’t know how to, though. It’s why I came to you for help.”

Craenari’s heart was beating erratically, and a hard lump was forming in her throat.

“Craenari is your daughter,” Jauffre said. “You’ll know what to say.”

The chest fell from her hands, and crashed onto the floor. The lid cracked, and she stood staring at the door as what she heard sank in. Even Fortis was staring with his mouth slightly agape in shock.

The door slid open, and she looked up to see Jauffre standing there, and on the other side of the room was Martin, eyes wide as they stared at each other.

“No,” he muttered. “Craenari—”

She didn’t hear him. Instead, she started running.


	13. A Plot Uncovered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Craenari didn’t know where she was running to. All she knew was that she had to get away—away from Jauffre, away from Fortis, away from _Martin_.

She could hear footsteps behind her, but she didn’t know who they belonged to. It just spurred her to run faster.

She got to the courtyard before something grabbed her arm, and she was pulled to a stop. She fell backwards and onto the ground, and she looked up to see Arcturus standing above her, looking somewhere behind her.

She pushed herself to her feet, but by the time she did whoever was chasing her had caught up. Jauffre and Martin stepped in front of her, stopping her from running again, what with Arcturus and now Pelagius standing behind her.

“What’s going on?” the latter asked, glancing at Craenari in confusion, as only minutes earlier they had been joking around about opening the chest.

“It doesn’t concern you,” she said. “Go away.”

He didn’t move, though. He only shifted his gaze to Jauffre.

“How much of that did you hear?” Martin asked.

“Enough to know the truth,” she said, looking at him in the eyes. The eyes of his father, and the eyes of Craenari. “How could you not tell me?”

“I swear I was going to tell you,” he said. “I just didn’t know how.”

She scoffed. “You could have come up to me after you found out and say “Hey, Craenari. Guess what? You’re my daughter!” But you didn’t. How long have you known?”

Whispers started surrounding them as Craenari’s fellow Blades heard what she was saying. Pelagius stared at her with his mouth wide open, not even trying to hide his shock.

“I had my suspicions since we met,” he said. “But I found out for certain last week. I messaged one of my old contacts from my days of daedra worshipped, and he confirmed them. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away.”

“I just…” She trailed off, and looked at the ground. “I need time to process it.”

She turned on her heel and pushed passed Arcturus and Pelagius, heading for the hall outside the study where she had dropped her chest of items. Fortis was still looking very surprised, and didn’t say anything when she picked the chest up and saw that the lid was cracked, though not enough for her to take things out of.

Sighing, she went back to the courtyard, where the Blades had gone back to their duties and Martin and Jauffre were talking quietly. They turned to her when they saw her approach, and she held out the chest to Martin.

“Can you unlock this?” she asked, not looking at him. “It’s why I came to see you.”

From the corner of her eye she saw him nod. “Of course.”

He held his hand out and hovered it over the lock. It clicked and the lid lifted slightly.

She muttered a “Thank you,” and went back into the building. She made her way to the sleeping quarters and got changed into her leather armour, as her Blades armour and sword would not get there until tomorrow.

Then she went to the runestone, despite dusk being several hours away.

She hid behind a rock with a view of the runestone, and thought for the next couple hours. That morning, Martin was probably seeing if she was the right age for her to be his daughter. It made sense, seeing as how he was only a daedra worshipper for a couple years before he became a priest.

Would her fellow Blades treat her differently now that they knew she was his daughter? Because she was technically second in line for the Ruby Throne, and oh gods, she didn’t want to be Empress! She didn’t like leading—she _couldn’t_ lead. She was happy being a follower, thank you very much. She didn’t need to lead all of Tamriel.

But she wouldn’t have to. Martin still had at least forty years before his health started to deteriorate, and by the time that happened, Craenari would be well into her fifties and maybe, just maybe, she would know how to lead.

She was only sixteen. She didn’t need the weight of an entire Empire on her shoulders.

Time went by quicker than she thought, and before she knew it, the sky was darkening and a heavy fog was settling in. With it came a woman with blue robes on, looking in the direction of Cloud Ruler Temple.

A couple minutes later, a man appeared, as well, and the two spies stood in silence. They stood like that for several minutes, neither of them speaking.

From where she sat, Craenari pushed herself to her knees and unsheathed her steel sword, before standing up fully and charging at them.

Jauffre had told her to kill them, and that’s what she was going to do. 

They cast the spells that came them their armour and weapons before attacking her, but they were dead soon enough, going back to their normal clothing. 

She searched them, the man having only a couple potions on him, but she found two keys on the woman, one marked ‘Basement Key’.

Craenari narrowed her eyes at the piece of paper tied to the key, wondering what it was for. Obviously it was for a basement in Bruma, she just didn’t know whose basement.

She looked down at the body of the woman. She didn’t look too heavy. Making up her mind, she pocketed the two keys and tried to lift her.

Only she couldn’t.

Sighing through her nose, she trudged up to Cloud Ruler Temple and asked Jauffre if they could spare a man, most likely Roliand. He said yes, and Roliand accompanied her back down to the runestone.

“I need you to carry that body,” she told him, pointing to the woman’s body.

Roliand blinked down at it. “Why?”

“So I can show Captain Burd, duh,” she said. “I don’t know who she is, and she had a key on her labelled ‘Basement Key’. If I know who she is, I’ll be able to tell whose basement I need that key for.”

The Nord nodded, and slung the dead body over his shoulders. They trudged towards Bruma, where they nodded at the gate guards, though they stared after them in confusion, but decided not to get into it, seeing the armour Roliand wore.

He carried the body all the way to Castle Bruma, and to the barracks, where Craenari called on Captain Burd again.

When he came, he blinked at the body. “Uh, who’s that?”

“Don’t know,” Craenari said. “That’s why I brought it here. She was one of the spies at the runestone, and I want to know who she is because I found this key,” she held up the key she had found on the body, “and I believe it has something to do with her.”

Captain Burd nodded. “Okay then. Show me.”

Roliand dropped the woman, and the Captain gasped. “Gods blood! That’s Jearl! So she was the spy? It seems there’s no one you can trust these days.”

Craenari vaguely remembered the name from that morning, when she was asking the Captain about suspicious people. Obviously he hadn’t thought the Redguard at their feet was capable of that. Obviously he was wrong.

“Since you’re working with Cloud Ruler Temple, I’m going to authorise the two of you to search Jearl’s house. I’ll pass the word to my men. We won’t interfere.”

“Thank you,” Craenari said. “We’ll leave the body with you.”

He pointed them in the direction of Jearl’s house, and another guard nearby pointed them to the right shack. As they were heading towards it, Roliand looked at Craenari.

“So, is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“That you’re Martin Septim’s daughter,” he said.

She locked her jaw, and refused to look at him.

“By the gods, it’s true. There’s another Septim.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” she said. “I’m still the same person I was before.”

“Obviously,” he said. “Except, we now have to protect you, too. I think that’s why Jauffre let me come with you.”

She grumbled as they reached the right shack. She didn’t want people protecting her. She just wanted to live.

She pulled out the two keys she had gotten from Jearl’s body, and tried the key that wasn’t marked. It fit in the lock, and she turned it until it clicked open.

She pushed the key back into her pack as they entered the shack, closing it behind them before they started searching for a door or something that a key could fit into.

“If I were a basement,” Roliand asked himself, “where would I be?”

Craenari just stared at him.

It took a couple minutes before they realised that trapdoors were a thing, and they started looking under the furniture. Craenari found the trapdoor underneath a run in the centre of the room, and she unlocked it as she called over Roliand.

He wouldn’t let her descend first, just in case there was someone down there that could attack her. She grumbled again, saying she didn’t need protection, but conceded after a lot of arguing.

He called up that it was safe for her to come down, and she descended the ladder. The basement was small, obviously made for one person and as a safe house, as there was a door leading into a cave system on the other side of the room that checked before closing again.

Searching shelves next to a desk, she found the first two volumes of Mankar Camoran’s “Commentaries”, and she considered burning them right then and there, but they weren’t there for that reason. Craenari needed proof that Jearl was actually spying on Cloud Ruler Temple and not out for an evening stroll and watch around the runestone, despite the two “Commentaries” books right there.

She found a rolled up piece of paper on the desk as Roliand stood guard—despite Craenari insisting that he didn’t need to stand guard and that the search would go so much quicker if he helped her—and opened it.

It read:

_Jearl—_

_The Master was pleased to hear of your actives outside of Chorrol. The more gates that we open, the nearer we are to the glorious Cleansing._

_The Master has chosen you and Saveri for a most crucial mission, a sign of your advancement through the ranks of the Chosen. We have learned that the Septim heir has gone to ground at Cloud Ruler Temple, the lair of the accursed Blades. The Master has made its destruction the top priority of the Order, and Lord Dagon has committed whatever resources are required._

_Pending your report on the Septim’s activities at Cloud Ruler Temple, and your assessments of Temple defences and possible routes of escape, we plan to open a Great Gate in the open ground before Bruma as soon as possible._

_Remember: the first three Lesser Gates represent only the preliminary stages of Great Gate Deployment. Do not in any way compromise your cover in defence of these gates. New ones can be quickly and easily reopened. And once the Great Gate is opened, the fall of Bruma is assured. Cloud Ruler Temple cannot stand long after that, and the Septim will be caught like a rat in a trap._

_We would welcome any further details you can offer concerning the Imperial agent who rescued Martin from Kvatch, but again, we caution you… do not risk a confrontation. This individual is not to be trifled with._

_The Dawn is breaking,_

_Ruma Camoran_

She lowered the letter, eyes wide.

The Mythic Dawn were going to destroy Bruma. And with it, they were going to kill Martin.

But they didn’t know that the dragon blood ran through Craenari’s veins, and the agents had been told not to trifle with her.

She wondered what they were going to think when they found out she, too, was a Septim.


	14. The Shrine of Namira

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and reviewing.

“They’re going to destroy Bruma,” Craenari said, holding the letter containing Jearl’s orders out to Jauffre.

The Grandmaster blinked in surprise, then grabbed the letter and read through it. “This makes for grim reading. The Mythic Dawn did not take long to locate Martin again, and I doubt it’ll be long before they find out that you’re his daughter. The document speaks of two agents. You need to eliminate both of them.”

“The other is dead,” she said. “I killed him at the same time as Jearl.”

He nodded. “Excellent work. I knew I could count on you. The gods did not idly choose you as their agent, whatever you may think.”

“So… I’ll be able to continue going on missions?” she asked, hopefully.

“I’m afraid so. Normally I wouldn’t send out a Septim when there are Blades, but I have no other choice. The Mythic Dawn seem afraid of you, as well. But you will be accompanied by a Blade wherever you go.”

Her face fell. She was fine by herself, but she guessed it was better than the alternative.

“We have not eliminated the threat against Bruma and Cloud Ruler Temple,” he said, getting back on topic, “only delayed it. I will warn the Countess of the danger. You should speak to Martin. I believe he has made some progress with the Mysterium Xarxes.”

Craenari nodded, and started for her father’s private study. Roliand had left her alone when they had gotten to the fortress, and for that she was grateful. The conversation the two of them were going to be awkward, and she didn’t want to put that awkwardness on anyone else.

She knocked on the door, ignoring the look Jena was giving her from her post outside Martin’s private quarters, and heard a muffled “Come in,” filter through the door.

She slid it open, and Martin looked up when she did. A small smile appeared on his face as she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.

“Hello, Craenari.”

“Jauffre said you were getting somewhere with the book,” she said.

He nodded. “Yes, I’ve deciphered part of the ritual needed to open a portal to Camoran’s Paradise. The Xarxes mentions four items needed for the ritual, but so far I have only deciphered one of them: ‘the blood of a Daedra Lord’. In fact, Daedric artefacts are known to be formed from the essence of a Daedric Lord, from whence they derive their great power. Not an easy thing to come by, obviously, but we’ll need a daedric artefact. Bring it to me when you have acquired one.”

She nodded, and turned to leave when Martin called her to wait.

She looked over her shoulder at it. “What?"

“I know I didn’t go the best way around telling you that you’re my daughter—”

“You didn’t tell me,” she told him. “I overheard you talking to Jauffre about me.”

“Either way,” he said, “I want to go back to being friends. I don’t think I’d be able to stand it if you hated me.”

She shook her head. “I told you I needed time. Maybe we’ll go back to what we had before, maybe we won’t. I don’t know.”

She turned on her heel and left the room.

* * *

The mountains around Bruma were cold, but Craenari was glad she had gotten the location of a Daedric Shrine nearby. Namira’s, from what the mage had told her. She had also been told that she had to be physically displeasing to get the attention of the Lady of Decay.   


And that was why she had several bottles of cheap wine in her pack. It would certainly be an adventure, because she had never had alcohol before, and apparently cheap wine took affect _fast_.

She got to the shrine that was nestled in the mountains, and was immediately set upon by Nord woman in dark green robes.

“Who are you? Why do you invade our place of worship? Surely, you don’t think yourself worthy to visit Namira’s shrine.”

“I wish to worship Namira,” Craenari said.

The Nord scoffed. “You do? You are too pretty to worship in this place. People like you. Like to hear you talk. When you are more loathsome, you may return.”

Looking the woman straight in the eye, Craenari pulled a bottle of the cheap wine she brought and uncorked it, putting the bottle up to her lips and tipping her head back.

A foul taste entered her mouth, and she squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to guzzle the bottle. When the bottle was empty, she threw the bottle onto the ground, coughing as the alcohol stung her throat and made her eyes water.

“Is this your first time drinking?” the woman asked, an eyebrow raised with amusement.

“Shut up,” she muttered, her voice already slurring, and put another bottle up to her lips.

That one went down easier, now that she knew what to expect of the taste. When that one was empty, she threw it on the ground next to the other one, swaying where she stood.

It took two more bottles for the Nord woman to tell her she now repulsed her, and that Namira may talk to her now.

Stumbling as she walked, the alcohol going through her system extremely fast, she fell against the statue that was made in the Lady of Decay’s image, and the goddess’s voice filled her mind.

_You dare approach my shrine, Child of Light? You, who walk this plane basking in the light of the warm, cruel sun?_

“Yeth,” Craenari mumbled, her legs giving out underneath her.

_Prove to me that you deserve my favour. In Anga, my Forgotten have lived in peace for many years. They worship me from the dark, basking in their misery and filth. Now, though, some would seek to bring light to their darkness. Priests of Arkay have intruded upon their squalor. I want you to help my Forgotten kill these priests of Light._

_Cast this spell upon the priests. Allow my beloved Forgotten to kill the interlopers. When this is done, I shall reward you for your efforts._

She felt something rise up in her, though she didn’t know if it was the spell Namira had just given her, or vomit from how fast she had drunk the chef wine.

It entered her throat, and she bent over and emptied her stomach onto the ground next to her.

It was definitely vomit.

* * *

When Baurus found Craenari, he was going to have words with her.

He trudged east towards the Shrine of Namira, where a made in the Mages Guild pointed him to where she had gone, muttering softly to himself.

She couldn’t go out by herself, she was a Septim. Sure, the Mythic Dawn didn’t know that, but it hadn’t taken long for them to find out where Martin was. It wouldn’t be long until they learned there was another Septim, and it was the person that had closed the Oblivion Gate outside of Kvatch.

When he reached the Shrine, there were three people hanging around it, all filthy, as well as a girl vomiting onto the floor at the foot of the statue.

It took him a couple seconds to realise it was Craenari.

He ran over to her as she wiped her mouth with her arm, and she tried to push herself to her feet, but her legs seemed weak, and she planted onto her side.

A drunken giggle escaped her mouth as he reached her, and he realised that she was drunk.

“Craenari?” he asked her.

“Hey, Bauruth,” she fumbled, raising an arm and poking him in the cheek. “What’re you doing ‘ere?”

“You’re not supposed to go out by yourself,” he said. “Are you drunk.”

She nodded her head and grinned, letting out another giggle.

Sighing, he hooked his arms around the back of her knees and shoulders and picked her up. Surprisingly, she was pretty light, despite being almost limp.

She giggled again as Baurus cradled her to his chest, nodding at the Namira worshippers, and headed down the path that would take them back to Bruma.

By the time they got to Cloud Ruler Temple, Craenari had fallen asleep in his arms, her hair plastered over her face was sweat, after babbling incoherently most of the walk there, and poking him in the face. He walked through the doors into the fortress, where Martin and Jauffre were talking, concerned.

Martin saw them first, and rushed over. “What happened?”

“She went to Namira’s Shrine, just east of Bruma,” Baurus said. “She’s very drunk.”

To prove his point, she hiccuped and giggled, then opened an eye. She reached up and poked his cheek again.

“I wathn’t thleeping,” she mumbled, throwing her head back.

“Yes, you were.”

“You have no proof.”

Martin blinked at her, before looking back at Baurus. “Why is she drunk?”

“Father,” she slurred, reaching an arm out to him. “You’re my father. That’th cool.”

The Redguard shook his head. “I don’t know. When I found her, she was puking on the ground.”

“Take her to my quarters,” Martin said. “She’s going to have a wicked headache tomorrow.”

Baurus nodded, and Martin led the way. They passed Pelagius, who was on duty outside his rooms, who raised an eyebrow at the mumbling and stuttering pile that was the heir to the Ruby Throne.

Martin pulled back the covers on his bed and instructed Baurus to place her down and remove her shoes. He had no idea if she was wearing clothes underneath the leather armour, so he decided to keep those on her for now. And then he threw the covers back over her.

Martin kneeled down next to her. “You need to sleep.”

She drunkenly shook her head. “I need to get to Anga.”

He blinked at her. “Anga? Why?”

“Namira’th Forgotten,” she muttered. “Kill prietht.”

“Why?”

“Artefact. Paradithe. Thaving the world.”

He didn’t know if the lisp she had was because of the alcohol or she was just really good at hiding it at normal times.

He sighed, and wiped her hair that was stuck to her forehead away. “Sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

She mumbled something incoherent, and moved her head to the other side. It wasn’t long until she had fallen asleep again, her chest rising and falling peacefully underneath the covers.

* * *

When Craenari woke up later that night, it was to shouting and a pounding head.

The pain danced around in her skull as she pushed herself into a sitting position, wondering where in Oblivion she was. She spotted a tankard full of water on the bedside table, probably left there so she didn’t dehydrate, and she reached over and sculled it, tipping her head back until there was no drop left in the mug.

With her head still pounding, she pushed her covers off her body, feeling very hot, and realised she was still in her leather armour. Wanting to get cool, she pulled off the armour, revealing a thin shirt and pants underneath. She pushed herself out of the bed and stumbled over to the door, sliding it open.

It was then that she realised that she had been in Martin’s room, with Ferrum guarding the door outside.

She started down the hall, with Farm trying—and failing—to convince her to go back to bed, but she pushed on. Several of the Blades were running towards the doors, and she followed them, though at a much slower pace.

Belisarius tried to stop her. “You have to stay here, ma’am.”

“What’s going on?” she asked him, holding a hand to her head. “Where’s everyone going?”

“Someone’s been spotted walking up the path,” he said. “Someone unidentifiable. You need to stay here.”

She shook her head, and continued on, pushing passed him.

She heard him mutter, “Why are all Septims so _stubborn?_ ”

Considering the only two Septims left alive had only just found out they were Septims, they were used to a lot of freedom.

She entered the courtyard to see Jauffre herding Martin inside, and she heard him groan when he saw her. Apparently, trying to tell a Septim what to do was nigh impossible.

Her heard still throbbed painfully, but she could help with who the intruder was. Against the wishes of literally everyone, she made her way to the walls surrounding the fortress and looked over the side, seeing who it was.

Her eyes widened when she saw an Argonian woman holding an Imperial boy on her hip.

She had completely forgotten about them.

“Stop!” she shouted, before turning around. “Stop!”

“What?” Captain Steffan asked.

“I know them!” she said, her arm pointing wildly behind her. “That’s my brother!”

He blinked at her. “You have a brother?”

“Yes!”

He nodded, and yelled at his men to stand down. They looked at him confused—even Jauffre was confused, as e watched Craenari fly down the stairs and push open the heavy doors by herself.

She was greeted by a very confused Kal-Jereen, and a happy Liodeius. He called out her name as she approached, and she wrapped her arms around the both of them.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she told them. “My life has just been so crazy lately, normality is perfect.”

“I have your armour,” Kal-Jereen said as Craenari let go of them. “And your katana.”

“Thank you.”

She heard armour rustling behind her, and she turned around to see Captain Steffan, Jauffre, and Cyrus approach them.

“Who are they?” the Grandmaster asked, looking suspiciously at the Argonian standing very close to the Septim heir.

“These are Kal-Jereen and Liodeius,” Craenari said. “Liodeius is my brother.”

To prove that, she took the boy from Kal-Jereen, glad that he was there. He hugged her back.

“You have a brother?” Jauffre asked.

Liodeius nodded. “I’m two!” he held up two fingers and tried to put them in the old man’s face.

“We have the same mother,” Craenari explained. “We don’t actually know who his father is.”

“Why don’t we take this conversation inside?” Captain Steffan asked. “Who knows if there are anymore spies out there.”


End file.
